BEHIND  THE  CURTAIN; 


LEELINAU. 


There  is  goodness,  like  wild  honey,  hired  in  strange  nooks 
and  corners  of  the  earth.  —  DOUGLASS  JEEROLD. 


NEW  YORK: 
WILLIAM     R.    SPINNEY, 

4TH  AYE.  AMD  2JD  ST. 


PREFATORY  NOTE. 


FOB  the  incidents  concerning  young  Wallingford,  the 
author  is  indebted  to  a  missionary  who  labored  among 
the  Indians. 

The  characters  of  Letelesha  and  Petalesharoo  are 
derived  from  history.  The  visit  of  the  young  chief  to 
the  City  of  Washington  created  intense  interest  for  his 
tribe  among  government  officials ;  his  efforts  at  raising 
the  tone  of  morals  among  the  Pawnees  being  unprece- 
dented in  one  not  acquainted  with  God's  Word. 

The  author,  also,  gratefully  acknowledges  her  in- 
debtedness to  the  works  of  the  following  authors  for 
facts  respecting  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  Paw- 
nees :  Drake's  Book  of  the  Indians ;  Heckewelder's 
Hi>tory  of  Indian  Nations;  Schoolcraft's  Journal,  and 
Legends;  Johnstone's  Narrative;  Robertson's  History; 
Lewis  and  Clark's  Expedition  to  the  Pacific  Ocean ; 
Major  Long's  Journal,  and  other  records  of  expedi- 
tions among  the  Western  Tribes. 


CONTENTS. 


• 

CHAPTER  I. 
Tire  STATION-HOUSE, 9 

CHAPTER  II. 
THP  TRAVELLERS, 21 

CHAPTER  HI. 
THE  SCRIPTURE-MOTTOES, S3 

CHAPTER  IV. 
LOOKING  UNTO  JESUS,        ....  47 

CHAPTER  V. 
A  FAITHFUL  FRIEND, 60 

CHAPTER  VL 
DOUBT  AND  CONFLICT,        .....      74 

CHAPTER  VII. 
TBE  ENGLISHMAN'S  STORY,         ....      87 

CHAPTER  Vin. 

EDITH  SINGINO, .100 

CO 


VI  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  IX. 
THE  NEW  ORGANIST, 110 

CHAPTER  X. 
THE  SEPARATION, 124 

CHAPTER  XL 
THE  NEW  HOME, 128 

CHAPTER  XIL 
WALLINGFORD'S  LETTER,  .        .       .       ,    137 

CHAPTER  XIH. 
WALLIXGFORD'S  JOURNAL,  .        ,        .    153 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
THE  HAPPY  REUNION, 166 

CHAPTER  XV. 
THE  MOTHER'S  LODGE, 184 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
LIGHT  THROUGH  THE  CLOUD,    .        .        .        .    195 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
BEHOLD,  HE  PRAYS, 208 

CHAPTER  XVHI. 
DEATH  OF  LEELINAU,          .        .        «        .  221 


CONTENTS.  Vll 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
THE  BURIAL,       .        .        .        .  .        .    232 

CHAPTER  XX. 
SUSPICION  OF  FRAUD,         .....    245 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
YEARS  OF  HAPPiXEbS,          .....    268 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
TUB  CHASTENING  ROD, 271 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
A  BRIEF  EPISTLE, 285 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
DEATH  OF  THE  CONSPIRATORS,  ....    299 

CHAPTER   XXV. 
TnK  TRAVELLERS'  RETURN,        .  314 

CHAPTER  XXVL 
Tnx  SEQUEL, ,327 


CHAPTER  L 

TUB    STATIOX-HOUSE. 

LARGE,  open  and  not  over  cloan 
station-house  in  Montreal,  the  floor 
covered  with  oil-cloth  worn  in  front 
of  the  seats,  passengers  running  to  and  fro 
to  secure  tickets  from  the  hurried,  but  civil 
depot-master,  friends  meeting  with  a  hasty, — 
"  Oh,  I'm  glad  you're  off  too  !  "  —  "  Splendid 
day  ! "  —  "  What  a  crowd  !  "  —  "  Oh,  dear  ! 
where  is  my  husband  with  those  baggage- 
checks  ?  "  —  Here  and  there  a  quiet,  but  tear- 
ful leave-taking —  such  is  the  opening  scene 
of  my  story. 

Notwithstanding  the  hurry  and  bustle  of 


10  LEELIXAU. 

everybody,  tho  fear  of  being  too  late  for 
the  cars,  the  largo  clock  shows  there  are 
still  twenty  minutes  to  gather  up  pack- 
ages, to  examine  anew  the  checks,  to  ar- 
range the  tickets  so  conspicuously  that  the 
conductor  can  see  them,  and  to  bid  a  final 
adieu  to  friends  you  are  to  leave  behind. 

But  hero  I  must  describe  two  of  the 
many  passengers  bound  from  Canada  to  the 
States. 

Standing  in  a  corner  of  tho  depot,  is  a 
girl  apparently  of  eighteen  years.  She  is 
attired  in  tho  simplest  manner.  With  a  trav- 
elling dress  of  brown  Thibet  having  little 
breadth  of  skirt,  with  sack  and  hat  of  the 
same  color,  with  a  heavy  shawl  across  her 
arm,  and  a  covered  basket  on  the  window- 
sill  near  her,  she  would  scarcely  arrest  the 
attention  of  any  one. 

A  thin  brown  gauze  veil  had  partially 
bidden  from  her  fellow-travellers  her  pale, 


THE  STATION-HOUSE.  11 

agitated  countenance,  but  suddenly  snatch- 
ing  it  off  to  answer  her  white-haired  ser- 
vant, the  sight  of  her  distress  moved  one 
heart  among  the  many  around  her. 

"I  almost  wish  I'd  never  thought  of 
going,"  she  exclaimed  in  a  low,  sweet  voice 
as  an  old  man  put  a  check  into  her  hand. 
"I  shall  be  so  very  far  away,  and  if  any- 
thing should  happen  to  him!  Oh,  Warner! 
what  if  he  should  die;  and  I  never  see 
him  again ! " 

"  Hugh !  miss  ! "  faltered  the  man,  making 
a  violent  effort  to  control  himself.  "You're 
a  bit  nervous;  or  you  wouldn't  give  way 
when  you've  held  out  so  bravely.  I'd 
rather  live  on  one  meal  a  day  than  to 
have  you  go  out  by  yourself  to  seek  your 
fortune ;  but  as  you've  decided,  and  master 
has  given  his  consent,  perhaps  you'll  make 
a  trial  for  a  few  months.  If  you  don't 
succeed, " 


12  LEELINAU. 

UI  shall  succeed,"  she  retorted,  with  an 
astonishing  change  in  her  tone.  "There 
is  no  doubt  of  my  success;  but,  my  father, 
if  I  could  only  carry  him  with  me." 

She  eaw  that  Warner's  courage  was  giv- 
ing way ;  and  putting  her  gloved  hand 
on  his  shoulder,  she  added,  with  a  bright 
smile: 

"In  a  fortnight  or  less,  you'll  hear  that 
I'm  engaged  as  governess  in  some  rich 
family,  Creoles  perhaps.  There  is  no  tel- 
ling how  much  I  shall  earn;  and  then 
you'll  bring  father  on  to  me.  I  leave 
everything  with  you.  I  don't  forget  what 
a  dear  faithful  old  creature  you've  been; 
how  yon've  carried  me  miles  in  your  arms 
and " 

"Ah!  that  was  in  good  old  England,"  in- 
terrupted the  man,  between  a  sigh  and  a 
sob. 

At   this    moment    there    was    an    unusual 


THE  STATION-HOUSE.  13 

bustle;  and  our  young  traveller  glanced 
around  with  a  frightened  air,  as  if  she 
fearod  she  would  lose  her  seat. 

"  There  are  ten  minutes  yet/'  remarked  a 
voice  near  her. 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  I  thought  they  were 
all  going." 

"Your  young  lady  is  alone,  I  see,"  added 
the  gentleman,  in  a  calm,  rather  cold  ad- 
dress. "I  have  taken  tickets  to  Boston,  and 
from  thence  I  go  direct  through  Washington 
to  the  South.  If  I  can  be  of  service  —  here 
is  my  card,"  presenting  it  to  the  mau,  who 
passed  it  to  his  young  mistress. 

She  did  not  even  glance  at  it,  but  fixed  her 
dark  brown  eyes  keenly  on  the  gentleman's 
face.  After  an  instant,  as  if  satisfied  with 
the  survey,  she  exclaimed  eagerly: 

"Isn't  New  Orleans  in  the  same  direction? 
I'm  going  there." 

"Yes;    and  I  believe  it  is   time  we  were 


14  LEELIKAtJ. 

taking  our  seats.  "Will  you  givo  your 
young  lady  to  my  care  as  far  as  we  journey 
together  ? "  he  asked  with  a  grave  smile. 

Warner  hesitated,  gazing  at  the  stranger  as 
if  he  would  read  him  through  and  through. 

"  I  honor  you  for  your  caution,"  added  the 
gentleman,  more  hurriedly.  "  If  there  were 
time,  I  think  I  could  convince  you  that  1 
should  regard  such  a  trust  as  sacred ;  but  as 
there  is  not,  I  can  only  say  that  I  am  an  Eng- 
lishman, and  that  I  will  do  for  your  friend  as 
i  would  wish  you  to  do  for  mine,  wero  our 
circumstances  reversed." 

"  I  accept  your  offer,  sir,"  responded  the 
white-haired  man,  "  and  may  the  God  of  her 
father  reward  you  according  to  the  kindness 
you  show  an  unprotected  girl." 

Without  another  word  the  gentleman  trans- 
ferred the  lady's  shawl  to  his  own  arm,  bal- 
anced the  basket  on  his  finger,  and  led  the 
way  toward  the  cars,  where,  the  gate  being 


THE  STATION-HOUSE.  15 

unlocked,  the  passengers  were  new  crowding 
in  earnest. 

"  Good-by,"  faltered  the  young  girl,  with  a 
burst  of  tears.  "  Tell  father  to  pray  for  me. 
Oh  "Warner !  I  trust  you  to  do  everything 
for  him.  Don't  forget  your  promise  about 
writing." 

"All  aboard  ! "  shouted  the  conductor. 

In  another  minute  our  traveller  was  seated 
in  the  car,  her  shawl  folded,  and  packed  into 
the  rack  above  her,  the  basket  at  her  feet ; 
but  she  seemed  unconscious  of  anything  ex- 
cept the  fact  that  at  last  she  had  entered  on 
the  stage  of  life,  had  launched  out  from  the 
quiet  waters  in  which  for  eighteen  summers 
she  had  rowed  her  barque,  into  the  ocean 
whose  currents  were  ever  widening  and 
deepening. 

Five,  ten,  fifteen  minutes  passed ;  and  still 
she  sat  with  her  face  buried  in  her  hands. 
Now  that  it  was  too  late  to  go  back,  she  would 


16  LEELINAtf. 

have  given  worlds  to  do  so,  to  rush  into  her 
deserted  room,  tear  off  her  bonnet,  and  then 
throw  her  anna  around  her  father's  neck. 
She  imagined  his  delight,  and  the  tenderness 
with  which  ho  would  fold  her  to  his  heart. 

"Father!  father!"  she  heard  herself  ex- 
claim;  "I've  come  back,  I  can't  leave  you; 
it  would  kill  me.  I  will  try  to  find  something 
here  which  will  gain  us  bread ;  and  we  will 
trust  in  God  for  the  rest." 

"  Can  I  do  any  thing  to  make  you  more 
comfortable,  Miss  ?  " 

Edith  started  with  a  little  cry  of  pain ;  the 
awakening  to  present  realities  was  too  sud- 
den. In  answer  to  the  polite  inquiry  of  her 
companion,  she  turned  upon  him  a  face  so 
stamped  with  suffering  that  he  was  startled. 
She  shook  her  head,  trying  in  vain  to  speak ; 
and  he  was  rather  annoyed  at  having  placed 
himself  in  such  a  situation :  wondering  what 
he  ought  to  say,  he  relapsed  into  silence. 


THE  STATION-HOUSE.  17 

But  his  question  did  Edith  good.  It  roused 
her  from  the  vain  regrets  which  had  almost 
overwhelmed  her.  "  I  cannot  go  back,"  she 
repeated  to  herself  over  and  over.  "  I  have 
voluntarily  undertaken  to  provide  my  father 
with  a  home  more  congenial  than  this  cold 
climate.  After  months  of  urging  I  have  con- 
quered his  reluctance ;  and  shall  I  falter 
now  ?  No  1  no,  indeed  1 " 

The  gentleman,  sitting  by  her  side,  felt  her 
form  shake,  as,  with  a  resolve  to  go  forward, 
trusting  in  help  from  above,  she  indulged  her- 
self in  the  luxury  of  tears.  But  before  he 
could  frame  any  remark  suited  to  comfort  and 
soothe  her,  the  agitation  began  to  subside. 
She  drew  from  her  pocket  a  tiny  volume  ;  and 
rapidly  turning  the  leaves,  she  paused  upon 
one  page. 

Glancing  over  her  hand,  her  companion 
read  the  words  at  the  top ;  "October  1,"  then 
underneath  a  verse  from  Scripture  :  "  Let  not 


18  LEELIXAU. 

your  heart  be  troubled  ;  ye  believe  in  God, 
believe  also  in  me." 

Presently  she  shut  the  book  and  returned  it 
to  her  pocket;  her  struggle  was  over;  and, 
with  God's  help  the  victory  won.  "I  have 
tried  to  do  right,"  she  said  to  herself;  "and  I 
may  take  Christ's  comforting  words  to  myself. 
Yes,  I  do  believe  in  God  as  a  gracious  Father 
who  orders  all  things  well  for  those  who  love 
him.  I  do  believe  with  all  my  heart  in  the 
love  of  my  dear  Saviour ;  though  I  forsake 
all  earthly  friends  I  do  not  forsake  him;  he 
goes  with  me.  Then  let  me  remember  his 
words:  "Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled." 

To  the  gentleman's  great  relief,  Edith 
turned  to  the  window,  and  was  attracted  by 
the  fine  view.  Heretofore  her  thoughts  had 
been  turned  inward ;  now  she  began  to  real- 
ize that  gratitude  for  the  kindness  of  the 
stranger  prompted  some  return  of  his  civili- 
ties. 


THE  STATION-HOUSE.  19 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,"  she  commenced,  but  sud- 
denly checked  herself  on  perceiving  that 
while  she  had  been  enjoying  the  prospect, 
the  gentleman  had  purchased  the  morning  pa- 
per from  a  boy  going  through  the  cars,  and 
was  perusing  its  columns. 

He  glanced  in  her  face  calmly,  waiting  for 
her  to  go  on. 

'•  I'm  afraid  I  have  —  I  fear  my  grief  at 
parting  from  my  home  has  made  me  appear 
ungrateful.  I  am  truly  glad  to  accept  your 
protection.  I  have  never  travelled  alone 
before." 

"It  is  a  long  journey  for  one  so  young. 
Are  you  going  to  remain  in  New  Orleans 
through  the  winter?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  expect  to.  I  hope  to.  I  am 
going  to  teach  music." 

"  Ah !  May  I  ask  whether  you  have  a 
place  engaged  ?  " 

"No  sir!"   in  a  saddened  tone.     "I  wish 


20  LEELINAU. 

I  had.      Do  you  think  it  will  bo  difficult  to 
secure  a  situation  ?  " 
"  Ilave  you  friend.s  to  assist  you  ?  " 
"  I  know  a  lady  who  went  from  Montreal  aa 
governess  to  some  wealthy  Creoles ;  but  my 
letters  to  her  have  remained  unanswered  of 
late ;  and  I  fear  I   shall  not  find  her.     I  am 
acquainted  with  no  one  else  in  all  the  South." 
"  I  regret  to  say  that  I  am  also  a  stranger 
there." 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    TRAVELLERS. 

j|T  is  natural  for  youth  to  be  over- 
whelmed with  sorrow  at  what  could 
be  very  calmly  endured  in  riper  years ; 
and  it  is  also  natural  for  youth  to  shake  off  its 
sadness,  and  enjoy  the  happiness  of  the  pres- 
ent moment,  —  so  it  must  not  be  considered 
strange  if  Edith,  though  only  a  few  hours 
parted  from  the  father  who  was  her  only  kin 
this  side  the  Atlantic,  should  exhibit  the  buo> 
ancy  of  her  nature,  in  seizing  every  opportu- 
nity for  enjoyment. 

The  third  seat  in  front  of  hers  was  occupied 
by  a  3*oung  couple,  who,  it  was  easy  to  con- 
jecture, were  on  their  wedding  tour.     The 
young  man  waa  apparently  just  entering  his 
cw 


22  LEELINAtl. 

majority,  and  his  companion  three  or  four 
years  his  junior.  When  Edith  began  to  no- 
tice them,  the  husband,  if  such  he  was,  was 
trying  to  prevail  with  his  wife  to  rest  her 
head  on  his  shoulder  for  a  nap,  which,  having 
been  roused  at  an  unusually  early  hour,  Edith 
realized  would  be  a  luxury ;  but  with  a,  blush 
and  shy  glance  around  the  cars,  the  girl-bride 
resolutely  declined. 

lie  had  bought  a  paper  of  the  news-boy, 
and  held  it  before  him ;  but  it  was  easy  to  see, 
his  mind  was  not  absorbed  in  the  reading. 
The  lady  unlocked  her  carpet-bag,  and  taking 
from  it  an  apple,  proceeded  to  pare  it,  putting 
one  mouthful  between  her  own  lips,  and  the 
next  between  his.  Two  or  three  rich  cakes 
shared  the  same  fate  ;  and  Edith,  now  quite 
forgetful  of  herself,  was  smiling  in  sympathy 
with  their  delight,  when  the  Custom  House 
officer  came  into  the  cars  to  demand  the  keys 
for  the  inspection  of  baggage. 


THE  TRATELLEfcS.  23 

"  I  have  one  trunk,  marked  '  E.  Colches- 
ter ; ' "  Edith  said  shyly,  as  the  officer  in  turn 
stopped  opposite  her  seat. 

Most  of  the  gentlemen  had  arisen,  and  fol- 
lowed to  the  baggage-room,  preferring  not  to 
give  up  their  keys. 

The  poor  girl  reluctantly  drew  hers  from 
her  pocket,  greatly  annoyed  at  the  necessity 
of  having  her  trunk  exposed  to  the  view  of 
strangers,  when  her  companion  noticed  her 
flushed,  anxious  face. 

"  Is  the  demand  absolute  ?  "  he  inquired  of 
the  grum  officer. 

"  Absolute." 

"  Will  you  trust  your  key  with  me,  Miss  ?  " 
he  asked,  gravely. 

"  Thank  you ;  "  putting  it  into  his  nicely 
gloved  hand. 

"There  is  no  trouble,"  he  remarked,  re- 
turning presently.  "  The  officer  has  enougfr 
to  do  to  examine  the  bridal  trousseau  of  our 


24  LEELINAtJ. 

neighbors,"  glancing  toward  the  young  lady 
in  front  of  them.  "  It  is  extremely  annoying ; 
but  we  shall  have  no  more  of  it." 

Edith  had  improved  the  opportunity  while 
he  was  awaj1-,  to  examine  the  card  he  had 
given  Warner.  The  name  engraved  upon  it 
was  "BROOKS  D.  WALLINGFORD." 

It  is  awkward  for  him  to  be  always  address- 
ing me  as  Miss,  was  her  quick  reflection ;  and 
she  hastily  wrote  her  own  name,  "  EDITH  COL- 
CHESTER," on  a  blank  card. 

He  accepted  it  with  a  grave  smile,  held  it  a 
moment  before  his  eyes,  then  opened  his 
porte-monnaie,  and  laid  it  carefully  within. 

When  the  gentlemen  were  again  seated, 
the  Custom  House  officer  reappeared ;  and, 
pointing  to  the  carpet-bags  in  the  racks,  he 
signified  that  he  wished  to  examine  them. 
Some  of  the  passengers  growled ;  others  swore, 
while  still  others  showed  their  wisdom  by 
submitting  to  what  couldn't  be  avoided. 


THE  TRAVELLERS.  25 

With  an  expression  of  intense  disgust,  Mr. 
Wallingford  unlocked  his  bag,  and  held  it  out 
for  inspection ;  and  Edith  with  a  smile  and  a 
blush  followed  his  example.  The  officer 
merely  glanced  at  the  inside  without  touch- 
ing either  of  them.  But  their  neighbors  did 
not  escape  so  easily.  He  turned  half  the  con- 
tents of  a  well-stuffed  valise  upon  the  floor, 
and  tumbled  them  in  again  without  a  word, 
when  the  bride  catching  up  a  well  worn 
Bible  thrust  it  in  his  face,  inquiring,  with  an 
arch  smile: 

"  Don't  you  want  to  examine  this  ? " 

Edith  watched  all  these  proceedings  with 
intense  interest ;  and  when  the  officer  passed 
on,  exclaimed  eagerly  :  • 

"  It's  too  bad :  but  —  I'm  glad  she  had  a 
Bible.  I  know  she  is  good." 

"Do  you  consider  that  a  safe  conclusion, 
Miss  Colchester." 

"  Certainly." 


26  LEELINAtJ. 

Shy  as  she  had  been  before,  her  reserve  in- 
creased after  this ;  and  Mr.  Wallingford  was 
sure  he  had  sunk  in  her  estimation  by  his 
question. 

The  iron  horse  had  now  carried  them  below 
St.  Albans ;  and  Edith,  gazing  from  the  win- 
dow, was  in  a  ecstasy  of  delight.  In  the  dis- 
tance she  could  discern  Mount  Mansfield,  its 
top  capped  with  snow ;  then  a  turn  in  the  road 
led  them  over  a  deep  gorge,  the  dark  rushing 
waters  underneath  ;  and  before  she  could  have 
time  to  fix  it  in  her  memory,  they  were 
winding  along  by  the  side  of  a  peaceful  riv- 
er, whose  glassy  surface  was  reflecting  the 
bright  October  sun. 

"This  is  enchanting,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Wal- 
lingford, putting  the  blind  up  as  far  as  it 
would  go.  "I  had  no  idea  of  such  scenery 
in  this  vicinity." 

"It's  too  bad  to  be  shut  up  and  only 
catch  a  glimpse  of  it,"  answered  Edith. 


TKE  TRAVELLERS.  27 

The  gentleman  rose  at  once,  and  went  to 
the  rear  end  of  the  car. 

"  If  you  don't  object  to  a  change  of  seat," 
he  said,  returning  after  a  few  minutes,  "  a 
fine  view  is  to  be  had  from  the  back  of  the 
car.  The  conductor  assures  me  the  view  is 
fine,  for  twenty  miles  along  our  route." 

Edith  started  at  once,  and  found  that  the 
conductor  had  not  deceived  them.  Perhaps 
the  pleasure  was  more  keen  because  wholly 
unexpected ;  but  the  impressions  of  the  next 
few  hours  she  never  forgot. 

An  ardent  lover  of  nature,  it  was  not  strange 
that  her  check  flushed,  and  her  eye  kindled, 
as  they  rushed  on  past  the  rolling  land,  cas- 
cades tumbling  frcm  the  heights.  —  an  occa- 
sional spire,  its  top  gliotening  like  burnished 
silver,  —  wooded  hills  decked  in  holiday  at- 
tire of  crimson  and  gold ;  and  deep  dark  ra- 
vines ;  now  a  log  hut,  then  a  neat  farm-house, 
herds  of  horses  and  cattle,  browsing  on  the 


28  LEELINAU. 

fertile  plains;  large  fields  of  golden  pump- 
kins. Now  a  lake  dotted  with  islands.  Cam- 
el's Rump  mountain,  Sunday  mountain,  Fair- 
lee  mountain ;  then  a  peaceful  village  with  ita 
church  and  school-houses,  followed  by  patches 
of  cultivated  land,  and  variegated  by  the 
brown,  sandy  soil  of  the  heights  above. 

They  had  taken  seats  in  the  back  of  the 
rear  car;  but  Edith  grew  so  excited  she 
sprang  to  her  feet  with  the  eager  question : 

"  May  I  stand  at  the  door  window,  Mr.  Wal- 
lingford  ?  Oh,  may  I  ?  The  view  will  be  so 
much  better." 

"  I  see  no  objection,"  and  rising  ho  placed 
himself  at  her  side. 

The  conductor,  an  intelligent  man,  present- 
ly joined  them ;  and  smiling  in  approval  of 
Edith's  animated  countenance,  offered  to  tell 
them  the  names  of  the  mountains  they  wore 
passing. 

At  two  o'clock  when  they  were  approach- 


THE  TRAVELLERS.  20 

ing  White  River  Junction,  Edith  sank  on 
her  seat  in  a  state  of  great  exhaustion. 

"  Oh! "  she  said  penitently,  "how  I  have  en- 
joyed it.  I  didn't  think  this  morning  I  could 
ever  be  so  happy  again.  Dear  Father,  I  sup- 
pose he  imagines  me  weeping  at  the  separa- 
tion. "  Her  voice  gave  evidence  of  real 
distress,  and  her  companion  hastened  to  ask : 

"Wouldn't  it  give  him  pleasure  to  know 
that  you  were  not  insensible  to  the  beauties 
of  nature  ?  It  always  seemed  easy  to  me  to 
worship  God  through  his  works. " 

Ldith  fixed  her  eyes  on  his  face  with  a 
searching  glance,  then  with  a  sigh  of  relief 
added: 

"  I'm  so  glad. " 

A  curious  smile  played  around  the  gentle- 
man's mouth ;  but  before  he  had  time  to  reply 
if  lie  had  wished  to  do  so,  the  cars  slackened 
their  speed ;  and  the  conductor,  putting  his 
hoad  inside  the  door,  shouted  : 


30  LEELINAU. 

"  Passengers  for  Boston,  twenty  minutes 
for  dinner. " 

Mr.  Wallingford  rose  at  once. 

"  I  have  lunch  in  my  basket,"  said  Edith 
blushing,  "  I  have  enough  for  you  if  you  will 
join  me. " 

"  Thank  yon,  "  he  answered  gravely,  "  would 
it  rest  you  to  walk  a  few  minutes  ?  and  per- 
haps you  could  take  a  cup  of  coffee.  We  could 
eat  our  lunch  afterward.  " 

"  I  have  been  standing  so  long, "  she  began. 

lie  bowed,  and  was  off  before  she  could  fin- 
ish her  sentence. 

After  five  minutes  he  came  to  the  win- 
dow, and  passed  her  a  cup  of  coffee. 

"  I  am  sorry,  sir, "  she  urged ;  "  but  I  never 
drink  coffee.  I  have  a  bottle  of  milk  in  my 
basket. " 

"  Can  I  get  }~ou  anything  else.  " 

"  No,  sir,  oh  no  !  " 

He  icturned  at  once,  after  paying  for  the 


THE  TRAVELLERS.  31 

coffee  which  he  himself  drank,  and  when  the 
passengers  hurried  to  their  seats,  he  and 
Edith  were  chatting  merrily  over  their  but- 
tered rolls  and  cold  chicken. 

When  they  had  finished,  the  young  girl 
opened  the  bottle  of  milk,  and  pouring  half 
the  contents  into  a  small  silver  cup  shyly 
held  it  out  to  her  companion.  He  raised  it  to 
his  lips  with  a  laugh,  and  then  returned  it  to 
her. 

"  I'm  fond  of  milk, "  she  said,  and  drained 
every  drop. 

"  The  basket  is  much  lighter  Miss  Colches- 
ter, "  the  gentleman  said,  bestowing  it  be- 
tween his  feet.  '•  Are  you  not  sorry  you 
invited  me  to  a  share  of  your  feast  ?  " 

A  gay  laugh  was  her  only  answer. 

"  She  has  a  light  heart  with  all  her  load  of 
care, "  mused  Mr.  Wallingford  relapsing  into 
silence.  He  was  a  lonely  man  with  few  near 
kindred,  and  wondered  much  to  find  his  soli- 


32  LEELIXAU. 

tude  broken  so  readily  by  a  mere  child  as  he 
considered  Edith.  In  his  inmost  soul  he  ac- 
knowledged it  was  very  delightful.  "A  gen- 
erous deed, "  he  repeated  to  himself,  "  brings 
its  own  reward.  I  was  prompted  by  the 
merest  compassion,  to  offer  her  my  protection. 
I  foresee  the  companionship  of  a  fresh,  ardent 
mind  will  relieve  the  tedium  of  my  journey." 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE    SCRIPTUEE    MOTTOES. 

T  Bellows  Falls  the  cars  were  delayed 
so  that  our  travellers  did  not  reach 
Boston  till  half  past  nine  o'clock. 

For  the  last  hour  or  two  Edith  had  slept. 
Between  them,  the  rolls,  chicken,  sandwiches 
and  tarts  had  disappeared,  and  now  startled 
by  the  slackening  speed,  she  longed  to  be  in 
some  quiet  room  where  she  could  rest. 

"  Where  shall  I  go  ? "  she  asked  in  some 
trepidation,  looking  out  into  the  darkness. 
"Is  there  a  hotel  or  boarding  house  near 
by?" 

"  I  have  ascertained  that  the  Tremont  is  a 
good  house.  I  will  get  a  hack ;  and  we  shall 
drive  there  in  a  few  minutes." 

»  C33) 


34  LEELINAU. 

She  wanted  to  thank  him;  but  something 
restrained  her,  and  taking  his  offered  arm,  she 
walked  the  entire  length  of  the  depot  to 
the  deserted  Ladies'  Room. 

"  I  shall  be  absent  but  a  moment,  to  find  the 
trunks, "  he  said,  hurrying  away. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  the  civil  waiter  at 
the  Tremont  informed  Miss  Colchester  that 
her  room  was  ready ;  and  as  she  had  positive- 
ly declined  taking  refreshment,  she  rose  to 
follow  him. 

Mr.  Wallingford  stood  waiting  to  bid  her 
good  night.  After  a  moment's  hesitation  she 
frankly  extended  her  hand. 

"  I  wish  father  knew, "  she  exclaimed  with 
a  burst  of  feeling,  "  how  kindly  my  heavenly 
Father  has  watched  over  me  so  far.  I  have 
a  verse  for  every  day,  and  the  one  for  this 
day  has  come  so  true.  I  can't  tell  you,  sir, 
how  grateful  I  am.  What  could  I  .have 
done  alone  ?  " 


THE  SCRIPTURE  MOTTOES.  35 

"  Will  yon  let  me  share  your  verse  to-mor- 
row ?  "  This  was  his  good  night. 

She  bowed  her  glad  assent  and  hurried 
away. 

The  room  was  small  but  neatly  furnished, 
indeed  everything  about  the  house  wore  an 
air  of  comfort.  After  locking  and  bolting  the 
door,  Edith  laid  aside  her  hat,  and  threw  her- 
self on  her  knees  by  the  side  of  the  bed,  her 
heart  swelling  as  she  thought :  "  Oh !  how 
much  I  have  to  be  grateful  for. "  With 
streaming  eyes  she  implored  the  continuance 
of  God's  blessing  on  herself  that  she  might  be 
successful  in  earning  means  to  provide  her 
dear  father  a  comfortable  home  in  his  declin- 
ing years.  She  prayed  that  he  and  his  faith- 
ful servant  might  be  preserved  from  sickness 
or  calamity  during  their  separation,  and  be 
permitted  to  meet  ere  long.  Nor  did  she 
forget  to  supplicate  blessings  on  him  who  had 
been  her  kind  protector  through  the  day. 


36  LEELINAU. 

She  prayed  that  if  he  had  not  already  chosen 
Christ  for  his  friend,  he  might  no  longer  de- 
lay to  do  so.  Then  committing  herself  and  all 
dear  to  her  to  the  care  of  her  heavenly  Father, 
she  laid  her  head  on  the  pillow,  and  was  soon 
quietly  sleeping. 

Probably  by  this  time,  my  readers  may 
wish  to  know  something  more  of  Mr.  Walling- 
ford's  appearance  and  character.  In  stature 
he  was  tall  and  commanding ;  his  manners  were 
grave,  dignified,  perhaps  cold,  though  the 
occasional  smile  that  lightened  his  whole  face, 
proved  that  his  feelings  were  deep  and  ar- 
dent. His  features  were  peculiar,  and  would 
excite  attention  in  the  most  casual  observer. 
His  complexion  was  dark  but  clear,  indeed 
had  not  Edith  heard  from  his  own  lips  that  he 
was  an  Englishman,  she  would  have  believed 
him  a  Spaniard  or  Italian.  His  eyes  were 
dark  and  piercing,  with  a  wide  space  be- 
tween them.  His  hair  was  black  and  shiny 


THE  SCRIPTURE  MOTTOES.  37 

as  a  raven's  wing,  his  nose,  quite  a  prominent 
feature,  was  straight  and  handsomely  formed, 
his  lips  were  full  and  mobile,  his  chin,  which 
was  closely  shaven,  square  and  firm.  His 
mouth  was  ornamented  with  two  rows  of  ex- 
quisite teeth.  The  tout  ensemble  was  good, 
and  gave  one  the  impression  of  a  man  of 
honor,  vrhich  he  was. 

The  next  morning  Edith  was  awakened  by 
the  gong,  and  about  an  hour  later  a  chamber- 
maid knocked  at  her  door,  to  say  that  Mr. 
"Wallingford  was  waiting  in  the  parlor  to  ac- 
company her  to  the  breakfast  table. 

"I  see  you  have  rested  well,"  he  said, 
cordially  taking  her  frankly  offered  hand. 
"  After  breakfast  I  will  tell  you  what  I  have 
learned  about  our  route  to  New  Orleans. " 

"  I  have  something  to  tell  you,  too, "  she 
added  between  a  smile  and  a  blush. 

"  Now, "  he  urged  when  they  had  returned 
to  the  parlor,  which  at  this  early  hour  was 


38  LEELINAU. 

quite  deserted,  "I  wish  to  ask  whether  you 
prefer  to  go  to  New  Orleans  by  water  or  by 
land  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid,  I  mustn't  act  according  to  my 
pleasure,  Mr.  Wallingford.  I  must  consult 
my  purse,  and  take  the  cheaper  route.  Here 
is  all  I  have ; "  putting  the  netted  article  into 
his  hands. 

He  balanced  the  purse  on  his  finger  with  a 
peculiar  smile  and  then  asked : 

"Shall  I  keep  it  for  you?" 

With  a  confidence  that  really  moved  him, 
she  answered : 

"  Yes,  sir,  if  you  will  take  the  trouble.  It 
contains  one  hundred  and  twenty  dollars,  the 
results  of  my  teaching  for  six  months.  I  hope 
to  make  it  last  till  I  get  a  situation  in  New 
Orleans.  Don't  you  think  it  will?" 

"Without  doubt;  but  why  do  you  prefer 
New  Orleans?  I  should  think  Savannah 
would  be  preferable.  I  have  a  friend  in  Sa« 


THE  SCRIPTUEE  MOTTOES.  39 

vannah,  who  I  am  sure  would  interest  him- 
self in  you.  He  is  a  clergyman,  too,  and 
has  daughters  near  your  age. " 

After  reflecting  a  moment  Edith  answered 
seriously : 

"  I  wish  I  knew  what  was  best.  My  only 
motive  in  fixing  on  New  Orleans  was  the  fact 
of  my  friend  having  been  successful  there ; 
but  I  may  never  see  her  again ;  and  then  I 
should  be  all  alone  in  a  great  city.  No,  I  ought 
not  to  say  alone, "  she  murmured  devoutly. 

"  You  may  certainly  count  on  my  not  leav- 
ing you  until  you  are  provided  for, "  he  re- 
marked, misunderstanding  her. 

A  vivid  blush  spread  all  over  her  counte- 
nance as  she  answered  quickly,  "  I  referred 
to  Him  who  has  said  to  his  children,  '  I  will 
be  with  thee  alway,  even  to  the  end  of  the 
world. '  But  about  my  destination,  I  fear  you 
will  be  vexed  that  you  met  us  in  Montreal 
Poor  Warner  was  so  anxious.  " 


40  LEELINAU. 

"  It  is  not  easy  to  displease  me, "  remarked 
Mr.  Wallingford,  rising  and  pacing  the  room, 
"but  you  can  do  so  by  reflections  of  that 
nature.  It  is  plain  that  you  are  a  novice  in 
travelling,  and  do  not  understand  how  much 
it  adds  to  the  comfort  of  a  gentleman,  not  to 
say  to  his  importance,  to  have  the  company  of  a 
lady.  It  gives  him  the  privilege  of  the  best 
cars,  and  a  seat  among  the  first  set  at  the 
table  d'hote. " 

Edith  laughed  heartily. 

"  I  would  like  to  leave  you  with  my  friends 
in  Savannah, "  he  urged  presently.  "  It  is 
much  more  healthy  than  New  Orleans,  and 
far  more  easy  of  access  for  your  father.  We 
can,  if  you  think  best,  go  to  New  York  in  the 
boat  to-night  and  take  the  first  steamer  for 
that  city.  That  will  give  us  a  whole  day  tc 
visit  the  Boston  lions. " 

"Isn't  it  very  expensive  staying  in  such  9 
house  as  this  ?  " 


SCRIPTURE  MOTTOES.  41 

"Having  given  up  your  purse.  Miss  Col- 
chester, I  advise  you  to  feel  no  further  care 
on  the  subject.  You  forget  that  I  dined 
and  took  supper  at  your  expense  yesterday. " 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  with  an  arch  smile.  "  I  en- 
joyed so  much  having  some  one  to  eat  with 
me."  She  walked  to  the  window  and  stood 
gazing  into  the  street ;  but  her  thoughts 
were  evidently  not  on  the  passers  by. 

After  a  few  minutes  he  joined  her.  "  Do 
you  know,"  he  asked,  "that  you  have  for- 
gotten a  promise  you  made  me  last  night?" 

"No,  sir." 

"  You  said  I  might  share  your  text  for 
October  second." 

With  a  bright  smile  she  pulled  from  her 
pocket  the  volume  of  Scripture  gems,  and 
turning  to  the  place  read  aloud: 

"  The  angel  of  the  Lord  encampeth  round 
about  them  that  fear  him,  and  delivereth 
them." 


42  LEELINAU. 

"  I  read  it  as  soon  as  I  awoke, "  she 
said  artlessly;  "but  I  thought  you  would 
forget  about  it." 

He  shook  his  head  and  looked  very 
grave.  He  was  asking  himself,  "Why 
have  I  never  sought  the  shield  of  God's 
promises,  which  are  so  sure  a  defence 
for  this  unprotected  girl?" 

Edith  gazed  in  his  face  a  moment,  and 
then  interrupting  his  meditations,  said  ea- 
gerly : 

"  I  believe  in  you  Mr.  Wallingford. 
Yes,  I  do,  though  I  know  nothing  of 
you  except  what  I  learned  from  this 
card.  I'm  sure  you  will  only  advise  me 
for  my  good.  I'll  go  to  Savannah  if  you 
think  it  best;  and  my  father  will  join 
me  in  thanking  you  for  your  kindness. 
But  wont  it  be  out  of  your  way  to  go 
there?  Couldn't  you  give  me  a  letter 
to  your  friend?" 


THE    SCRIPTUBE    MOTTOES.  43 

The  entrance  of  some  travellers  pre- 
vented his  reply  to  her  question.  Her 
confidence  had  deeply  moved  him,  and  he 
resolved  never  to  forfeit  it. 

"I  shall  take  tickets  for  New  York 
then,"  he  said,  "  and  order  a  carriage  for 
a  drive  around  the  city." 

"If  you  please,  I  had  rather  walk,  Mr. 
Wallingford. " 

"Without  any   reference  to   the   purse?" 

"Yes,   sir." 

"When  we  return,  will  you  give  me 
an  opportunity  to  judge  of  your  qualifi- 
cations for  a  music  teacher?" 

"I  will  play  for  you  now,  while  we 
are  alone." 

The  travellers  had  passed  down  the 
stairs,  when  he  lifted  the  cover  of  the 
large  piano  standing  in  the  room. 

"What  will  you  do  for  notes,  Misa 
Colchester?" 


44  LEELINAU. 

"I  must  play  something  I  can  remem- 
ber; or  perhaps  compose  a  waltz,  in 
honor  of  Boston."  She  glanced  in  his 
face  with  an  arch  smile. 

"I   had   rather  hear  you   sing." 

"Are  you  very  fond  of  music?"  She 
asked  this  question  as  she  ran  her  fingers 
over  the  keys;  but  finding  the  tone  of 
the  instrument  uncommonly  sweet,  she 
was  presently  absorbed  in  her  own  music,  so 
absorbed  as  to  forgot  everything  else. 

One  piece  followed  another  in  quick 
succession,  each  more  sad  and  full  of 
pathos,  until  at  last  she  poured  out  her 
whole  soul  in  the  words  of  Eve's  lament: 

"Must   I  thus   leave    thee,    Paradise?" 

"Who  is  she?"  "Where  did  she  come 
from?"  were  the  whispered  inquiries  of 
one  and  another  who  had  been  attracted 
to  the  parlor,  by  her  rich,  clear  voice. 


THE    SCRIPTURE    MOTTOES.  45 

For  one  moment  Edith  leaned  forward 
and  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  then 
rising  she  walked  across  the  parlor  to 
the  window,  where  Mr.  Wallingford  stood, 
and  touching  his  arm  asked: 

"Shall  I   get  my   hat  now?" 

He  started  at  her  changed  appearance. 
Her  face  was  of  an  ashy  hue,  her  lips  even 
being  colorless.  It  was  evident  that  her 
music  had  moved  her  own  feelings,  if  it 
had  affected  no  other  listener.  He  took 
her  hand  gravely,  as  if  she  had  been  a 
child  and  remarked  briefly: 

"You  are   ill." 

"No;  but  I  was  tempted  to  indulge 
myself.  It  was  too  much  for  me.  I  must 
forget  the  past." 

"'Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled.' 
Was  not  that  your  motto  yesterday?"  he 
asked. 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears;    but    with  a 


46 


LEELINAU. 


resolute     effort     she     commanded     herself 
and   choked  them  back. 

"Thank  you,"  was  her  softly  murmured 
reply;  and  she  left  him,  making  a  pass- 
ing bow  to  the  salutations  of  the  ladiea 
whc  had  heard  her  sing. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

LOOKING    UNTO    JESUS. 

^HEY  walked  on  in  the  direction  of 
the  Common  without  speaking,  and 
after  turning  into  the  maU,  Mr. 
Wallingford  paused,  trying  to  recall  the 
instruction  he  had  received  in  reference 
to  the  lake. 

"Oh,"  faltered  Edith  with  a  sigh,  "how 
little  those  ladies  imagine  my  situation, 
a  wanderer  from  my  father's  house,  sep- 
arated forever  from  the  scenes  of  my 
childhood,  my  dear,  dear  home  across  the 
sea." 

He  felt  her  form  tremble  and  dre\v 
her  arm  more  firmly  into  his;  but  ig- 
norant of  all  the  circumstances  of  her 


48  LEELINAU. 

past  life  he  knew  not  how  to  comfort 
her.  The  silence  became  almost  intolera- 
ble to  him  when  she  added:  "how  little 
people  know  of  what  passes  behind  the 
curtain." 

Just  before  them  a  nurse  was  leading 
two  lovely  children.  One  of  them,  a  pret- 
ty blonde  with  golden  hair  and  deep  blue 
eyes,  looked  around  archly  as  if  trying 
to  court  attention. 

"  Oh ! "  cried  Edith,  springing  forward, 
"isn't  she  a  darling?  Will  you  let  me 
kiss  you,  dear?"  - 

The  little  Miss  submitted  with  a  good 
grace,  and  afterward  insisted  on  leaving 
the  nurse  and  walking  with  her  new 
friend. 

"Does  it  annoy  you  to  walk  so  slowly, 
Mr.  Wallingford  ? "  Edith  asked,  noticing 
his  serious  expression.  "  I  suppose  the 
child  mistakes  me  for  some  acquaintance; 


LOOKING    UNTO    JESUS.  49 

but  it  is  delightful  to  have  her  like  me ; 
it  warms  my  heart,  I  have  so  few  friends 
in  America." 

"I  shall  always  thank  the  little  one  for 
doing  what  I  had  no  power,  to  do." 

"What  is   that,   pray?" 

"Win  you  from  your  sadness  to  bright- 
er views  of  life." 

At  this  moment  the  nurse  wished  to 
turn  in  another  direction,  and  called  out 
in  a  decided  tone : 

"  Rose !  Rose !  you  must  come  with 
me  now." 

So  Rose  held  up  her  cherry  lips  for 
another  kiss,  and  trotted  away  with  her 
little  brother. 

"  I'm  sorry  you  think  me  sad,  Mr.  Walling- 
ford.  I  assure  you  my  disposition  is  very 
hopeful.  Witness  the  fact  that  I'm  here  in 
the  States,  hundreds  of  miles  from  my  home, 
and  willing  to  increase  the  distance  by  thou- 


50  LEELINAU. 

sands  of  miles  more  ;  and  all  because  hope 
stands  in  the  distance  beckoning  me  on.  Oh, 
I'm  uncommonly  hopeful ! 

"  I'm  a  firm  believer  in  goodness  too,"  she 
added,  as  he  did  not  speak,  "  so  much  so 
that  I  came  near  throwing  my  arms  about 
an  old  lady  I  saw  at  the  breakfast-table 
this  morning.  I  feel  confident  she  would 
have  given  me  good  advice,  very  like  a 
mother.  My  mother  died  just  when  I 
needed  her  most."  The  last  words  were 
uttered  so  sadly,  her  companion  feared  she 
was  lapsing  into  melancholy  again;  but  she 
instantly  recovered  herself,  and  went  on 
quite  gayly. 

"Yes,  I  believe  with  Douglas  Jerrold, 
that  '  there  is  goodness,  like  wild  honey, 
hived  in  strange  nooks  and  corners  of  the 
earth.'  Have  you  a  mother,  Mr.  Walling- 
ford?" 

He   started  at  the    unexpected    question, 


LOOKING    UNTO  JESUS.  51 

and  almost  dropped  her  arm,  but  replied  at 
once  : 

"  I'm  on  my  way  to  see  her.  I've  been 
debating  with  myself  for  the  last  hour 
whether  it  would  be  good  for  you  to  hear 
a  story  sadder  than  your  own,  whether 
you  would  like  a  peep  behind  my  curtain." 

"  And  what  is  your  conclusion  ? "  she 
inquired,  gazing  at  him  with  new  in- 
terest. 

"  That  I  cannot  throw  such  a  cloud  over 
your  young  life." 

"I  Avould  like  to  comfort  you  if  I  can," 
murmured  Edith,  glancing  in  his  agitated 
face  with  moistened  eyes;  "but  if  I  cannot, 
you  know  where  to  go  for  consolation.  I 
will  lend  you  both  my  mottoes.  Yes, 
and  I  can  repeat  another  that  my  father 
made  me  commit  to  memory  years  ago : 

" '  Affliction  cometh  not  forth  of  the  dust, 
neither  doth  trouble  spring  out  of  the 


52  LEELIXAU. 

ground.'  'Behold  happy  is  the  man  whom 
God  correcteth ;  therefore  despise  not  thou 
the  chastening  of  the  Almighty.'  " 

"But  what  if  I  have  only  the  belief  of 
the  understanding  in  these  truths?  What 
if  I  have  never  opened  my  heart  to  their 
influence  ?  " 

"Then  God  is  afflicting  you  to  bring  you 
to  repentance,  faith  and  love.  Don't  you 
remember  the  verse,  'Now  no  chastening 
ior  the  present  is  joyous,  but  rather  griev- 
ous; nevertheless  afterward  it  yieldeth  the 
peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness  to  them 
that  are  exercised  thereby '  ?  But  why  have 
you  never  opened  your  heart  to  Christ's 
invitation  ?  '  Behold  I  stand  at  the  door 
and  knock.  If  any  man  hear  my  voice, 
and  open  the  door,  I  will  come  in  unto 
him,  and  will  sup  with  him,  and  he  with  me.' " 

"I  have  never  satisfactorily  answered 
that  question  to  myself." 


LOOKING    UNTO    JESUS.  53 

"  I  wish  you  would  believe,  not  only 
with  the  understanding,  but  with  your 
whole  heart.  I  don't  know  what  I  should 
do  if  I  could  not  apply  to  myself  God's 
gracious  promises  to  his  children.  In  my 
sorrow  there  is  no  comfort  like  that." 

"  Tell  me   how   to    obtain    that    comfort." 

"  Why  it's  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world. 
Christ  came  to  this  earth  to  take  our 
burden  of  sin,  and  to  give  us  his  right- 
eousness instead.  Don't  you  consider  your- 
self a  sinner  before  God  ?  " 

"  Like  Paul,  I  am  often  constrained  to 
cry  out,  '  I  am  the  chief  of  sinners.' " 

"  And  don't  you  understand  that  Jesua 
Christ  is  ready  to  pardon  your  sins? " 

"  Yes,  I  know  that  in  the  abstract ;  but 
there  is  some  mysterious  process  to  be 
passed  through,  before  I  can  stand  forth 
us  justified  before  God." 

"Yes,  it  is  mysterious.    We  may  under- 


54  LEELINAU. 

stand  in  heaven ;  but  we  cannot  here ; 
how  it  is  that  a  guilty  soul  can,  in  a  mo- 
ment of  time,  pass  from  the  deepest  con- 
demnation  to  tho  light  and  privileges  of 
a  son  of  God :  but  thousands  who  cannot 
Bolve  the  mystery,  have  accepted  Christ's 
offer  in  faith,  and  are  happy." 

Mr.  Wallingford  shook  his  head,  turning 
impatiently  from  the  walk,  which  was  be- 
coming crowded,  down  an  unfrequented 
path. 

"I  am  blind,  and  cannot  see,"  he  said 
solemnly. 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is  your  own  fault. 
Just  so,  some  of  the  poor  Israelites  in  the 
wilderness  would  not  look  upon  the  bra- 
zen serpent  to  be  healed  of  their  wounds. 
There  it  was  just  before  them;  and  they 
were  commanded  to  look  and  be  saved ; 
but  they  kept  their  eyes  closed,  and  said, 
*  We  are  blind,  we  cannot  seo." 


LOOKING    UNTO    JESU3.  55 

"Explain  the   analogy." 

"  The  brazen  serpent  was  a  type  of 
Christ  5  those  bitten  represent  sinners ; 
they  would  not  look  to  him,  just  as  you 
will  not  accept  him  as  your  Mediator  with 
the  Father,  though  he  has  given  his  life 
to  obtain  a  ransom  for  you.  No,  you  are 
trying  to  get  into  heaven  some  other 
way.  He  says,  'Look  unto  me,  and  be 
saved.' " 

Glancing  in  his  face,  she  was  frightened 
at  the  convulsed  features.  She  feared  she 
had  offended  him,  and  wanted  to  run  away, 
to  be  in  her  own  room,  and  beseech  God 
to  draw  him  by  his  gracious  Spirit. 
Back  and  forth  they  paced  hurriedly,  until 
their  singular  movements  began  to  attract 
notice.  Then,  trembling  with  fear  and  awe, 
Edith,  by  a  pressure  of  his  arm,  turned 
her  companion  toward  home. 

They   separated  at  the   door  of   the    par- 


56  LEELINAU. 

lor  without  a  word,  each  of  them  retiring 
to  their  room. 

Two,  three  hours  passed,  and  the  din- 
ner-bell rang  long  and  loud;  but  no  sum- 
mons came  for  Edith  from  Mr.  Walling- 
ford.  At  last,  faint  and  weary  with  pro- 
longed excitement,  the  young  girl  rang 
the  bell,  and  asked  for  a  cup  of  tea  in 
her  chamber.  She  was  breaking  the  roll 
which  accompanied  it,  when  a  servant 
brought  Mr.  "Wallingford's  card. 

"  The  gentleman  is  waiting  in  the  parlor, 
Miss." 

Edith  gave  him  the  tray,  and  went  down 
at  once.  A  single  glance  assured  her  that 
her  friend  had  found  peace. 

"I'm   so   glad,"   she    said   softly. 

"  I  cannot  explain  now,"  he  remarked, 
"I  can  only  say  that  whereas  I  was  once 
blind  to  the  infinite  glories  of  my  Saviour's 
character,  now  I  see." 


LOOKING    UNTO    JESUS  67 

He  gave  her  his  arm,  and  they  took 
seats  at  the  table,  which  fortunately  was 
by  this  time  nearly  deserted. 

"  The  car  which  takes  us  to  the  boat 
leaves  at  five,"  he  said,  when  they  were 
about  to  rise.  "We  have  forty-five  min- 
utes to  reach  the  depot." 

He  put  some  silver  into  the  waiter's 
hand,  then  turned  back  to  Edith,  and  did 
not  leave  her  till  she  reached  the  door  of 
her  room. 

"How  soon  shall  I  send  for  your  trunk, 
Miss  Colchester?" 

"  It  is   all   ready  now." 

"Will  you  come  to  the  parlor  when  you 
have  put  on  your  hat?" 

On  reaching  New  York,  they  went  at 
once  to  the  Astor  House,  where  Mr.  Wai- 
lingford  learned  that  the  steamer  to  Savan- 
nah, did  not  sail  till  Saturday.  As  this  was 


68  LEELINATT. 

only.  Thursday  morning,  they  had  time  to 
visit  many  places  of  interest  in  the  Empire 
city  and  its  vicinity. 

Having  breakfasted  and  rearranged  her 
toilet,  Mr.  Wallingford  requested  Miss  Col- 
chester to  try  the  large  piano  in  the  parlor 
of  the  hotel. 

She  rose  at  once  to  comply  with  his  re- 
quest, played  and  sung  several  pieces, 
ending  with  the  anthem  from  the  Messiah: 
"  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  lives." 

Before  she  had  concluded,  the  spacious 
room  was  half  filled  with  persons  drawn 
thither  by  the  wonderful  powers  of  her 
voice. 

"  Who  is  she  ?  "  "  Can  she  be  the  new 
prima  donna  ?  "  "  What  passion ! "  "  What 
expression  !  "  "  How  wholly  she  enters  into 
the  sentiment  of  her  song ! " 

These  and  many  other  remarks  proved 
that  her  audience  appreciated  the  music. 


LOOKING    UNTO    JESU3.  59 

One  gentleman  advanced  to  Mr.  Wallingford, 
and  giving  him  his  card  requested  an  in- 
troduction to  the  lady. 

After  a  moment's  hesitation,  the  English- 
man repeated  the  stranger's  request,  when 
Edith  rose  at  once  from  the  piano,  and 
bowed  in  acknowledgment  of  the  compli- 
ment. 

"I  am  an  ardent  lover  of  music,  espe- 
cially of  the  human  voice  divine,"  remarked 
Mr.  Lawronce;  "and  I  have  a  particular 
fancy  not  often  gratified,  which  is,  that  I 
like  to  be  able  to  distinguish  the  words  of 
the  singer.  I  congratulate  you,  Miss  Col- 
chester, on  your  distinct  enunciation." 

The  pretty  color  came  and  went  on 
Edith's  cheek  as  she  answered  frankly: 

"I  am  glad,  sir,  that  I  have  been  able 
to  give  you  pleasure.  I  love  to  sing." 


CHAPTER  V. 

A    FAITHFUL    FRIEXD. 

HE  remainder  of  the  forenoon  was 
passed  in  visiting  the  cemetery  at 
Greenwood,  and  the  Navy  Yard. 


After  dinner  a  quiet  walk  allowed  our 
travellers  an  opportunity  of  discussing  those 
high  and  holy  themes,  which  of  all  others 
were  now  dearest  to  their  hearts.  They 
met  again  at  the  tea-table,  when  Mr.  Law- 
rence introduced  his  wife  and  daughter  to 
the  strangers,  and  begged  the  young  lady 
to  exercise  her  vocal  powers  in  the  evening 
for  their  entertainment. 

"With  a  quick  glance  at  Mr.  "Wallingford, 
Edith  answered: 

"We  are   going  to  service  in  the    Trin- 

(60) 


A    FAITHFUL    FRIEND.  61 

ity  Church.  If  there  is  time  afterward, 
I  will  sing  with  pleasure." 

"  I'm  so  glad  they  like  to  hear  me," 
exclaimed  the  young  girl  when  they  were 
on  their  way  to  church.  •'  Don't  you 
think  I  can  earn  money  to  support  my 
father?" 

"Without  a  doubt." 

"Before  I  —  I  mean  beforo  I  had  begun 
to  reflect  upon  religion,  T  used  to  think  I 
would  sing  in  public.  1  knew  I  should 
be  frightened  at  first;  but  when  I  have 
once  commenced.  I  forget  everything.  I 
wouldn't  be  sensible,  if  the  whole  world 
were  present.  Papa  used  to  laugh,  and 
say  a  child  of  his  should  never  go  upon 
the  stage." 

"You  are  the  last  one  I  should  imag- 
ine fitted  for  such  a  life.  I  cannot  even 
fancy  you  standing  behind  the  footlights." 
He  laughed,  and  Edith  joined  him. 


62  LEELINAU. 

"But  do  you  really  think,  Mr.  "Walling- 
ford,  that  it  is  wrong  for  a  lady  to  use 
her  talents  in  public,  if  she  have  a  good 
motive  for  doing  so.  Suppose,  for  in- 
stance, a  lady  could  read  tolerably  well, 
do  you  think  it  unmaidenly  for  her  to 
earn  money  by  reading  in  public?" 

"I  should  feel  very  sorry  to  have  a 
sister  of  mine  exposed  to  such  a  trial." 

"  Oh,  I'm  sorry  you  speak  so  seriously  I 
You  are  just  like  papa,  who  is  always 
affirming  that  any  notoriety  and  publicity, 
brushes,  the  bloom  from  a  lady's  cheeks, 
and  destroys  the  nice  delicacy  which  is 
the  chief  ornament  of  her  sex." 

"I   entirely  agree   with  Mr.  Colchester." 

"Now  that's  too  bad,"  said  Edith,  half 
laughing.  "  I  can  read  quite  well ;  and 
I  love  it  almost  as  well  as  singing.  I 
have  had  such  a  nice  plan  for  adding  a 
little  to  my  stock  of  money.  Indeed,  Mr. 


A    FAITHFUL    FRIEND.  63 

Wallingford,  I  think  you  and  papa  are 
quite  old  fashioned  in  your  notions.  How 
am  I  to  earn  a  pleasant  home  for  papa 
unless  I  attract  notice  from  the  public?" 

Instead  of  answering  this  question,  Mr. 
Wallingford  asked  another:  "Why  don't 
you  return  to  England?" 

Edith's  lashes  drooped  over  her  eyes 
while  her  lip  quivered  like  a  grieved  child. 

"It  is  a  sad  story  of  oppression  and 
wrong,"  she  murmured.  "I  do  not  like 
to  think  of  it.  Poor  mamma  sunk  under 
our  repeated  afflictions ;  and  papa  could 
not  endure  to  stay  where  — " 

She  paused,  choking  back  a  sob ;  but 
presently  added :  "  It  is  much  better  to 
suffer  than  inflict  wrong;  and  if  I  can 
only  earn  money  it  will  be  all  right." 

Trinity  Church  has  long  been  noted  for 
the  enchanting  music  which  forms  an  im- 
portant part  of  the  service. 


64  LEELINAU. 

Mr.  Wallingford  was  greatly  interested 
in  watching  the  beaming  face  of  his  com- 
panion as  the  rich,  full  voices  chanted 
the  parts  of  the  service ;  but  when  the 
hymn  was  given  out  in  which  the  audi- 
ence was  expected  to  join,  he  acknowl- 
edged with  secret  delight  that  not  one 
of  the  choir  had  a  voice  which  in  com- 
pass or  sweetness  could  compare  with 
hers. 

On  the  way  home  he  said  archly,  "You 
are  such  a  money-making  maiden,  that  I 
will  suggest  one  way  in  which  to  help 
fill  your  purse." 

"Yes,  I  want  to  make  all  the  money 
I  can,  so  please  tell  me  quick." 

"I  will  ask  my  friend  to  get  you  ap- 
pointed in  his  choir.  I  have  no  doubt 
each  of  those  ladies  receive  several  hun- 
dred dollars  a  year;  for  singing  God's 
praise." 


A    FAITHFUL    FRIEND.  65 

"No,"  exclaimed  Edith  warmly.  "Much 
as  I  need  money  I  should  feel  reluctant 
to  receive  pay  for  worshipping  God.  I 
know  many  good  people  do  it;  still  I 
would  prefer  to  render  him  my  service 
only  from  a  loving  heart;  but  I  want  to 
ask  you  one  thing  as  papa  is  not  here." 

"Well?" 

"  Perhaps  you  think  it  wrong  for  me  to 
sing  to-night  in  the  parlor.  Do  you?  I 
don't  know  how  many  will  be  there." 

"  Certainly  not.  If  I  were  invited  to 
sing  I  might  accompany  you." 

"  Oh,  I  should  like  that  I  Do  you  sing 
tenor  or  bass?" 

"I  suppose  modesty  would  suggest  that 
I  reply  '  a  little  of  both,  or  not  much  of  eith- 
er/ but  as  I  am  talking  with  a  confidential 
friend,  I  may  be  pardoned  for  saying  that 
I  can  take  any  part  you  choose  to  assign 
me;  but  I  forget  we  have  no  notea." 


66  LEELINAU. 

"  I  will  try  to  sing  whatever  you  can 
remember." 

'•'  Repeat  the  words  you  sung  this  morn- 
ing, if  you  please." 

To  Edith's  surprise  she  found  the  parlors 
full  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  impatiently 
awaiting  her  arrival.  Miss  Lawrence  would 
scarcely  give  her  time  to  run  to  her  cham- 
ber and  smooth  her  abundant  tresses. 
"  You  have  been  away  such  a  long  time," 
she  urged,  "and  papa  has  prepared  us  for 
a  rich  treat.  I  have  brought  all  my  music 
to  the  parlor  for  your  use." 

The  evening  passed  so  quickly  that  all 
were  surprised  when  a  neighboring  clock 
struck  the  hour  of  eleven. 

"  Just  one  more,  Miss  Colchester,"  urged 
Miss  Lawrence,  and  when  she  hesitated, 
she  said  archly,  "  Mr.  Wallingford,  plead 
with  her  for  one  more." 

"Shall    I?"     she    asked,    gazing    in    his 


A    FAITHFUL    FRIEND.  67 

face    as    she    would    have    done     into    her 
father's. 

"If  you  are  not  too  tired,"  was  his 
pleased  reply. 

So  she  returned  to  the  music  stool  for 
one  more  song,  after  which  she  made  a 
motion  to  retire. 

In  nothing  which  he  had  yet  seen  was 
Mr.  Wallingford  more  pleased  than  by  the 
simple,  unaffected  manner  in  which  she  re- 
ceived the  flattering  compliments  of  those 
present. 

"  We  must  thank  you,  too,  for  Mr.  Wai- 
lingford's  fine  bass,"  suggested  one  young 
girl,  glancing  archly  in  the  direction  of 
the  gentleman. 

Yes,  I  enjoyed  his  singing  exceedingly." 

Mr.  Wallingford  attended  her  to  the  door 
of  her  room,  when  seeing  that  no  one  was 
near,  he  said  hurriedly : 

"I  will  not  detain  you;   but  can  you  not 


68  LEELINAtl. 

give  me  a  motto  to-night?  My  joy  is  al- 
ready overcast,  and  I  am  beginning  to  fear 
I  was  deceived  in  thinking  myself  accepted 
of  God.  Whichever  way  I  turn,  my  sins 
stare  me  in  the  face." 

"Do  you  love  them  so  well  you  wish 
to  take  them  back?" 

Unconsciously  she  seized  his  hand  as  she 
asked  the  question ;  and  in  the  dimly  light- 
ed hall,  he  could  see  that  every  feature 
expressed  the  deepest  sympathy. 

"No!  ah,   no!" 

"You  still  wish  Christ  to  be  your  Sa- 
viour and  friend.  You  trust  the  atone- 
ment he  has  made,  and  consider  it  sufficient 
to  cover,  even  your  sins." 

"  "With  all  my  heart  and  mind  I  believe 
that." 

"Then  I  will  give  you  a  motto  for  your 
comfort.  '  There  is  therefore  now  no  con- 
demnation to  them  which  are  in  Christ 


A    FAITHFUL    FRIEND.  69 

Jesus,  who  walk  not  after  the  flesh,  but  af- 
ter the  Spirit.'" 

"Will  you  not  remember  me  in  your 
prayers  ?  " 

"  I  am  a  poor,  weak,  erring  girl,  and 
oh,  I  need  prayers  so  much  myself!" 

She  turned  suddenly  away  to  hide  the 
tears  she  could  not  suppress,  and  without 
another  word  unlocked  the  door  of  her 
chamber  and  entered. 

The  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  had  lin- 
gered in  the  parlor  to  talk  and  wonder 
about  the  interesting  couple,  met  Mr.  Wal- 
lingford  on  the  way  back  to  his  room ; 
and  wondered  still  more  at  the  marks  of 
strong  emotion  on  his  usually  calm  face. 

The  next  morning,  through  the  kindness 
of  Mr.  Lawrence,  Mr.  "Wallingford  obtained 
a  permit  to  visit  the  public  institutions 
of  the  city.  They  took  an  early  boat  to 
Blackwell's  Island,  where  they  visited  the 


70  LEELINAF. 

insane  asylum,  the  almshouses,  and  the  pris- 
ons; and  after  a  twelve  o'clock  lunch  took 
a  carriage  to  the  asylums  for  the  deaf  and 
dumb,  and  the  blind. 

As  an  Englishman  and  a  stranger  the 
gentleman  was  extremely  interested  in  the 
humane  mode  of  conducting  these  institu- 
tions, and  expressed  his  pleasure  in  the 
most  cordial  manner. 

During  the  ride  he  informed  Edith  that 
her  motto  had  been  an  unspeakable  comfort 
to  him  —  that  he  spent  a  long  time  in 
searching  for  it  in  his  pocket-Bible,  and 
then  read  the  whole  chapter  with  profit,  as 
he  hoped. 

He  also  told  her  that  he  never  should 
forget  the  faithfulness  with  which  she  had 
pressed  him  to  yield  his  heart  to  God,  ad- 
ding, with  deep  feeling: 

"  I  need  not  tell  you  I  am  a  reserved 
man,  naturally  so,"  he  repeated  with  em- 


A    FAITHFUL    FRIEND.  71 

phasis.  "  But  to  one  who  lias  been  the 
means  of  leading  me  to  the  cross,  I  feel 
constrained  to  unburden  my  peculiar  trials. 
I  have  a  mission,  Miss  Colchester,  a  sa- 
cred mission.  I  would  that  it  had  devolved 
on  one  better  fitted  for  it  than  I.  Till  the 
object  for  which  I  have  come  to  America, 
is  accomplished,  I  must  not  gratify  the 
yearnings  of  a  lonely  heart." 

"  When  you  think  it  best,  you  will  tell 
me  about  it,"  rejoined  Edith,  with  a  con- 
fiding smile.  "  Of  course  I  would  like  to 
know  it ;  especially  if  I  can  comfort  you, 
as  you  have  comforted  me." 

"  Sometime,  if  my  life  is  spared,  I  will 
tell  you  what  I  think  of  your  last  remark. 
I  am  going  into  danger,  and  perhaps  into 
death.  May  I  not  hope  you  will  follow  me 
with  your  prayers  ?  " 

The  color  faded  from  the  sweet  face  be- 
fore him.  Edith  tried  to  answer,  but  could 


72  LEELINAU. 

not  trust  her  voice.  She  bowed  assent, 
and  then,  turning  toward  the  window  of 
the  carriage,  seemed  to  be  wholly  absorbed 
in  watching  the  crowded  streets.  Fortu- 
nately for  her,  they  were  just  turning 
into  Broadway;  and  in  a  few  minutes  they 
stopped  at  the  door  of  the  Astor  House. 

"  Will  you  go  to  the  dining-room  before 
tea  ? "  the  gentleman  asked.  "  Your  lunch 
was  very  light." 

"  No,  sir.  I  must  finish  a  letter  to  my 
father,"  and  she  was  hurrying  away,  when 
he  detained  her. 

"  Will    you   deliver   a  message   for  me  ? " 

"  Certainly." 

4<  Say  to  him  that  I  advise  you  to  go  to 
Savannah;  that,  as  a  countryman  and  a  fel- 
low Christian,  I  will  protect  you  till  you  are 
comfortably  situated  in  that  city,  and  under 
the  care  of  loving  Christian  friends,  who 
will,  I  have  no  doubt,  advance  the  object 


A  FAITHFUL   FRIEND. 


73 


for  which   you  have   left    your  friends    and 
your  home   in  Montreal." 

A  flash  of  pleasure  beamed  in  the  young 
girl's  eyes.  "  ily  father  will  thank  you," 
she  exclaimed,  earnestly. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

DOUBT    AND    CONFLICT. 

T  would  be  pleasant  to  linger  on  the 
passage  from  New  York  to  Savan- 
nah ;  but  I  must  only  sketch  a  few 
incidents  which  occurred,  and  hasten  to 
more  important  events. 

The  first  night  and  the  following  day 
were  rough ;  and  Edith  kept  her  berth,  hav- 
ing no  companion  but  the  bronze-colored 
stewardess,  who  was  more  than  usually  at- 
tentive. Edith  never  dreamed  that  Mr. 
Wallingford  had  paid  her  for  extra  service. 
On  Monday  he  sent  a  message  to  her 
state-room,  urging  her  to  come  on  deck 
as  the  best  means  of  conquering  her  sea- 
sickness; but  she  hesitated.  She  had  taken 

(74) 


DOUBT  AND   CONFLICT.  75 

time  to  reflect  on  their  acquaintance,  and 
though  she  did  not  distrust  him,  she  dis- 
trusted her  own  heart. 

Ever  since  their  ride  in  New  York,  she 
had  been  asking  herself:  "What  do  I  know 
of  Mr.  Wallingford's  former  life,  his  home 
and  kindred.  After  he  leaves  Savannah,  I 
shall  probably  never  see  him  again.  He  will 
accomplish  his  mission,  difficult  and  even 
dangerous  as  it  is ;  for  I  can  see  he  is  a 
man  who  will  overcome  every  obstacle  in 
his  path,  and  then  return  to  England.  He 
has  been  very  kind  to  me  ;  but  he  might 
be  just  as  kind  to  any  traveller.  I  must 
school  my  heart  in  time." 

Poor  Edith  was  deeply  mortified  and  self 
abased  when  she  reflected  that  she  had  be- 
gun to  regard  with  unusual  interest  a  man, 
whom  for  aught  she  knew,  was  a  hus- 
band and  father;  and  in  her  pride,  resolved 
for  the  future  to  be  on  her  guard. 


76  LEELINAU. 

To  his  repeated  invitations,  therefore^ 
she  returned  answer  that  she  was  engaged 
in  writing. 

Toward  night,  however,  she  felt  the  close 
confinement  so  injurious  that  she  allowed  the 
stewardess  to  help  her  to  the  saloon.  It 
was  almost  deserted,  the  passengers  having 
gone  aft  to  watch  the  gorgeous  clouds  in 
the  western  horizon. 

The  Captain  presently  passed  and  stopped 
to  inquire  for  her  health,  then  politely  of- 
fered her  his  arm  to  follow  the  other  passen- 
gers. 

The  scene  was  beautiful  beyond  descrip- 
tion. Beneath  a  canopy  of  crimson,  golden 
and  amber  clouds  the  sun  was  just  fading 
out  of  sight,  while  all  the  splendor  of  the 
glorious  coloring  was  reflected  in  the  water 
underneath. 

"  There  it's  gone  !  "  said  Edi.th,  having 
watched  the  scene  with  intense  delight 


DOUBT   AND   CONFLICT.  77 

Her  voice  startled  a  gentleman  who  stood 
beyond  her,  and  who  had  not  noticed  her 
presence.  It  was  Mr.  Wallingford  who  in- 
stantly came  to  welcome  her  on  deck. 

She  blushed  as  she  met  his  piercing 
eyes  fixed  full  upon  hers,  and  was  intense- 
ly vexed  with  herself  for  betraying  such 
emotion. 

"  The  Captain  was  kind  enough  to  in- 
vite me  out,"  she  said  by  way  of  remark. 

Then  the  Captain's  name  was  called  and 
delivering  his  charge  into  the  care  of 
Mr.  Wallingford  he  begged  to  be  excused. 

"  The  stewardess  told  me  you  declined 
leaving  your  state-room,  Miss  Colchester." 

"I  did;  but  I  grew  so  weary,  I  used 
the  privilege  of  a  woman  to  change  my 
mind." 

"Will  you  walk?"  he  asked,  offering  hia 
arm. 

"My  head  is   scarcely  steady   enough." 


78  LEELINAU. 

"I   think  the  exercise  will  do  you  good." 

"He  spoke  like  a  man  who  was  accus- 
tomed to  have  his  suggestions  regarded; 
and  Edith,  after  a  shy  glance  in  his  face, 
allowed  him  to  lead  her  back  and  forth 
across  the  long  deck. 

"You  have  been  ill,  too,"  she  said,  softly. 

"  Not  bodily ;  and  it  is  no  new  thing  for 
me  to  have  mental  ailments." 

"More   doubts?"   she   asked,  smiling. 

"Yes,  doubts,  and  internal  conflicts,  rea- 
son and  affection  struggling  for  mastery; 
the  spirit  warring  against  the  flesh." 

In  one  moment  Edith  forgot  all  the  barri- 
ers she  had  been  setting  up  to  guard  her 
poor  heart.  She  forgot  everything  in  her 
desire  to  comfort  her  friend. 

"I  suppose,"  she  said,  "that  every  Chris- 
tian since  the  days  of  Paul  has  gone  though 
with  similar  conflicts.  It  does  seem  so  won- 
derful that  we,  who  have  all  our  lives  been 


DOUBT  AND   CONFLICT.  79 

bending  under  a  burden  of  sin,  should  at 
once  find  ourselves  free  from  the  load,  we 
can  scarcely  realize  it.  I  remember,  too, 
only  a  few  days  after  I  hoped  my  sins 
had  been  pardoned,  how  discouraged  I  was 
to  find  that  I  still  had  a  wicked  heart 
prompting  me  to  sin.  Oh,  it  is  true  that 
in  this  world  we  are  only  partially  sancti- 
fied, and  like  Paul  when  we  would  do  good, 
evil  is  present  with  us  !  But,  Mr.  Walling- 
ford,  we  ought  to  cling  fast  to  the  promise, 
'Sin  shall  not  have  dominion  over  you.'" 

He  remained  silent;  and  Edith  glancing 
in  his  face,  saw  that  he  was  absorbed  in 
reflections;  and  they  seemed  far  from  pleas- 
ant ones. 

"I  think  I  shall  have  to  give  you  an- 
other motto  from  St.  Paul,"  she  added, 
archly,  "would  you  like  it?" 

"  Yes.  Paul  would  have  understood  my 
case  better  than  most  men." 


80  LEELINAU. 

"  Well,  it  is  this ;  '  Forgetting  the  things 
that  are  behind,  and  reaching  forth  unto 
those  things  which  are  before.' " 

His  countenance  brightened.  "  Thank  you," 
he  said,  earnestly ;  "  you  are  a  skilful  phy- 
sician ;  first  you  probe  the  wound  and  you 
do  it  without  shrinking;  then  you  apply 
the  balsam.  Now  you  give  me  a  power- 
ful tonic." 

The  bell  at  this  moment  rang  for  supper, 
and  Edith  consented  to  take  a  seat  at  the 
table.  Here,  for  the  first  time  since  she 
came  on  board,  she  met  her  fellow-passen- 
gers, and  was  pleased  to  find  there  was 
such  an  agreeable  party.  Mr.  Wallingford's 
gloomy  thoughts  seemed  for  the  time  dis- 
pelled, and  altogether,  our  young  traveller 
began  to  feel  that  life  on  ship-board  might 
bo  very  pleasant. 

On  returning  to  the  saloon,  Mr.  "Walling- 
ford  sat  down  by  Edith,  but  soon  discovered 


DOUBT   AND    CONFLICT.  81 

that  she  was  trembling  from  the  night  air. 
He  arose  instantly  to  find  the  stewardess, 
and  send  her  to  Miss  Colchester's  state 
room  for  her  shawl. 

While  he  was  away,  Edith  noticed  a 
small  book  lying  on  the  sofa  which  must 
have  dropped  from  his  pocket.  She  picked 
it  up,  and  looked  at  the  fly-leaf.  How 
painfully  her  heart  beat,  when  she  read  the 
inscription, — "  B.  Wallingford,  a  gift  of  love 
from  his  wife." 

She  was  so  occupied  in  trying  to  keep 
down  the  tide  of  emotion  caused  by  these 
simple  words,  that  she  did  not  notice  his 
presence  until  he  spoke ;  then  she  threw 
the  book  away  as  if  it  had  stung  her. 

"He  shall  never  know  that  I  imagined 
him  other  than  a  married  man,"  was  her 
first  resolve.  For  the  rest  of  the  evening, 
she  was  gayer  than  he  had  ever  seen  her. 
She  talked  about  her  favorite  books,  re- 


82  LEELIXATJ. 

called  and  repeated  scenes  which  had  in- 
terested her,  laughing  gayly  at  the  offi- 
cious care  of  the  stewardess  who  came  re- 
peatedly to  look  after  her  late  charge  ;  and 
at  last  when  singing  was  proposed  was 
the  first  to  rise  and  approach  near  the 
group  around  the  piano. 

Her  eager,  beautiful  countenance,  and  soul^ 
lit  orbs,  attracted  attention  from  more  than 
one ;  and  at  last  she  confessed  that  she 
could  sing.  At  another  time  she  would 
have  shrunk  from  the  publicity  of  the  place  ; 
but  now  her  whole  aim  was  to  show  Mr. 
Wallingford  that  she  was  perfectly  happy. 
She  took  her  seat  at  the  piano,  where  she 
played  and  sung  several  lively  airs  to  the 
delight  of  her  hearers. 

"  I  beg  you  not  to  exert  yourself  any 
more,  Miss  Colchester,"  urged  Mr.  Walling- 
ford, bending  over  her.  "You  must  bo 
weary  after  your  recent  illness." 


DOUBT  AND   CONFLICT.  83 

She  rose  at  once,  and  accepted  his  arm 
to  the  door  of  the  state-room,  then  with  a 
quivering  lip,  thanked  him  for  his  care,  and 
bade  him  good-night. 

Tuesday  was  rainy;  and 'she  did  not  leave 
her  state-room.  During  the  day  the  stew- 
ardess conveyed  many  kind  messages  to 
her  from  her  anxious  friend,  urging  his 
wish  to  do  something  for  her  comfort ;  but 
she  returned  answer  that  her  head  ached, 
and  rest  always  proved  the  best  remedy. 

On  Wednesday  morning  they  hoped  to 
land  early  enough  to  breakfast  in  Savan- 
nah. Edith  had  slept  but  little.  Still  she 
dressed  herself,  packing  her  carpet-bag,  and 
making  ready  to  go  on  shore.  It  was  now 
thirty-six  hours  since  she  parted  from  Mr. 
Wallingford ;  quite  long  enough,  she  argued, 
to  conquer  any  secret  disappointment  in  re- 
gard to  one  so  lately  a  stranger. 

Wrapping    her    shawl    around     her,     she 


84  LEELINATT. 

went  on  deck,  and  seated  herself  near  the 
stern  of  the  boat.  There  was  no  appear- 
ance of  land,  unless  a  low  dark  line  on  the 
right  should  prove  to  be  the  shore. 

Her  thoughts  were  sad;  and  the  feeling 
was  reflected  on  her  expressive  features, 
when  she  was  startled  by  a  voice  close  be- 
hind her. 

"You  are  early  this  morning,  Miss  Col- 
chester." 

The  words  were  common-place ;  but  there 
was  a  tenderness  in  the  tone,  a  soft  light 
beaming  from  the  piercing  eyes,  which 
roused  her  indignation. 

"He  has  no  right  to  look  at  me  in  that 
way,"  was  her  instant  reflection,  as  she 
quickly  turned  away  to  hide  the  provok- 
ing blush. 

He  took  a  seat  by  her,  and  opening  the 
small  volume  to  which  I  have  alluded  asked 
her  whether  she  was  an  admirer  of  Pollock. 


DOUBT   AND   CONFLICT.  85 

"  Not  particularly,"   was   her   cool  reply. 

He  arose  and  began  to  walk  the  deck, 
still  keeping  his  precious  volume  in  sight. 
At  last  the  cloud  settling  on  his  face 
cleared  away ;  and  he  returned  to  his  seat. 

"  It  was  a  keen  disappointment  to  me 
that  you  were  so  ill  yesterday,"  he  said. 
"  I  met  with  an  adventure ;  and  I  longed 
to  explain  it  to  you.  I  found  a  gentleman 
on  board  whom  I  was  on  my  way  to  con- 
sult about  the  business  to  which  I  have 
referred.  He  is  a  Jesuit  priest,  who  can, 
and  I  trust  will  give  me  information  in 
regard  to  the  mission  which  brought  me  to 
this  country." 

For  one  moment  Edith  forgot  her  indig 
nation.  Though  she  did  not  speak,  her 
eyes  expressed  the  interest  his  words  ex- 
cited.  Perhaps  it  was  this  circumstance 
which  gave  him  courage  to  add,  with  deep 
emotion : 


86  LEELTNAU. 

"Miss  Colchester,  I  am  a  lonely  man.  I 
told  you  I  was  on  my  way  to  visit  my 
mother.  For  twenty  years  she  has  been 
to  me  like  one  buried  in  the  grave.  Be- 
side her,  I  have  not  one  near  relative. 
Your  faithfulness  has  formed  a  tie  between 
us  which  death  itself  cannot  sever.  "Will 
you  trust  me  a  little  longer,  be  my  adviser 
and  friend?" 

She  gave  him  her  hand.  "Yes,  I  will 
trust  you,"  she  said,  warmly. 

Before  nine  o'clock  the  passengers, 
dressed  for  landing,  came  crowding  upon 
the  deck.  The  bell  rang,  and  the  Captain 
invited  all  who  wished,  to  breakfast  on  the 
steamer.  Our  friends  were  soon  seated  at 
the  table,  "the  last  perhaps,"  Edith  said 
to  herself,  "that  we  shall  take  together." 


CHAPTER,  VII. 

THE  ENGLISHMAN'S  STORY. 

NCE   on    shore,   they   drove    directly 
to   the    hotel ;    and    then    Mr.   Wai- 


lingford  started  off  in  search  of  his 
friend. 

Two  years  previous  to  this  time,  Mr. 
Cahill,  an  Irish  gentleman  from  the  South, 
spent  a  winter  with  his  wife  in  Rome; 
and  here  Mr.  Wallingford  made  their  ac- 
quaintance. An  occasional  correspondence 
had  since  been  carried  on,  the  latest  news 
from  the  clergyman  showing  that  he  had 
been  invited  to  a  church  in  Savannah,  and 
was  now  pleasantly  situated  in  that  city. 

Our  traveller  readily  learned  the  street 
and  number  of  Mr.  CahiK's  residence,  and 

(87) 


88  LEELINAU. 

was  soon  received  by  his  old  friends,  with 
all  the  warmth  for  which  the  Southerners 
are  so  deservedly  distinguished. 

Mrs.  Cahill  and  her  two  daughters  lis- 
tened to  the  story  of  Edith  with  flattering 
attention,  and  insisted  that  both  she  and 
Mr.  Wallingford  should  remove  their  bag- 
gage instantly  to  the  Rectory. 

"  If  she  is  half  as  accomplished  as  you 
described,"  replied  Mr.  Cahill,  laughing, 
"  I  can  get  her  a  situation  as  organist,  in 
our  choir,  which  as  late  as  Monday  eve- 
ning was  vacant.  That  will  insure  her  six 
or  seven  hundred  dollars.  I  will  see  the 
gentlemen  appointed  to  select  an  organist, 
and  beg  them  to  delay  until  they  have  met 
your  friend." 

"  I  have  heard  her  express  reluctance 
to  receive  pay  for  such  services ;  but  I 
think  she  might  be  prevailed  upon  to  ac- 
cept," returned  Mr.  Wallingford. 


THE  ENGLISHMAN'S  STORY.  89 

"It  would  give  me  great  pleasure  to  be 
introduced  to  a  lady  whom  Mr.  "Wallingford 
pronounces  so  charming/'  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Cahill,  addressing  her  husband.  "  He  gain- 
ed the  character  of  extreme  fastidiousness 
among  the  English  ladies  in  Rome." 

"  I  only  ask  you  to  welcome  Miss  Col- 
chester as  my  friend,"  remarked  the  visitor, 
smiling.  "  I  am  sure  you  will  wish  to  re- 
tain her  friendship  on  your  own  account." 

"Hurry  then  and  bring  this  marvel  of 
perfection  to  us,"  laughed  the  lady,  follow- 
ing Mr.  Wallingford  to  the  door. 

The  gentleman  found  his  travelling  com- 
panion in  the  parlor  of  the  hotel  engaged 
in  an  earnest  discussion  with  a  stranger. 
On  advancing  nearer  he  found  it  was  Fa- 
ther Rush  the  Jesuit  who  had  agreed  to 
meet  him  soon  after  they  went  on  shore. 

"I  came  to  say  that  it  will  be  impossi- 
ble for  me  to  accompany  you  on  your  tour 


90  LEELINAU. 

till   after    the    Sabbath,"    explained  the    Fa- 
ther.    "I  was  inquiring  for  you  at  the  bar; 
and  this  lady,  who  was  passing  through  the 
hall,   told  me   you   would    soon  be   here." 
"  Where   shall   I   call   upon  you,   sir  ? " 

"  I   shall   put  up   at   the    Bishop's   in 

Street." 

"  Would  it  forward  my  object  to  send  a 
copy  of  Father  McCroix's  letter  to  Father 
Greeny,  and  apprise  him  of  our  intended 
visit.?" 

"  Yes.     Direct   to   him   at   St.   Louis." 
Mrs.    Cahill   received   our  young   traveller 
with  the  affection   of  a  mother.     She  was  a 
woman   of    portly   presence,   lively   manners 
and   a   large   heart. 

Her  husband,  after  scanning  the  young 
lady's  features  at  the  same  time  that  he  was 
carrying  on  a  conversation  with  Mr.  Wal- 
lingford,  abruptly  left  the  gentleman  and  put 
hifi  daughter  Nora's  hand  in  Edith's. 


THE  ENGLISHMAN'S  STORY.  91 

"  I  present  to  you  your  first  music  schol- 
ar," lie  said,  gayly ;  and  if  you  can  per- 
suade Georgianna  to  keep  quiet  long 
enough,  you  may  teach  her  too." 

"It  is  very  kind  for  you  to  promise  me 
your  patronage,"  returned  Edith,  blushing 
deeply,  "  certainly  until  you  have  convinc- 
ed yourself  of  my  skill." 

"Don't  give  him  too  much  credit,"  cried 
Mrs.  Cahill,  laughing,  as  she  patted  Edith's 
hand.  "We  know  Mr.  Wallingford's  nice 
ear  too  well  to  imagine  he  would  bestow 
the  high  encomiums  which  he  has  given 
you  unless  you  richly  deserved  them." 

At  that  moment  Edith  called  to  mind 
the  fact,  that  he  had  never  in  her  presence 
uttered  one  word  of  praise  of  her  sing- 
ing. She  was  greatly  vexed  with  herself 
for  glancing  at  him,  and  still  more  that 
she  could  not  meet  his  eye  without  blushea 
burning  her  cheek. 


92  LEELIXAU. 

Mr.  Wallingford  dined  with  Iris  old 
friends,  and  passed  an  hour  or  two  after 
dinner  in  Mr.  Cahill's  study.  When  they 
returned  to  the  parlor,  he  invited  Edith 
to  accompany  him  out  on  business. 

Though  wondering  what  the  business 
could  be,  she  readily  complied,  when  he 
instantly  explained : 

"  I  have  ascertained  that  there  will  be 
no  difficulty  in  obtaining  scholars  enough 
to  support  your  father  in  a  comfortable 
manner.  The  applicant  for  organist  in 
Mr.  Cahill's  church  does  not  give  entire 
satisfaction  to  the  committee ;  and  at  my 
friend's  request  they  invite  you  to  play, 
and  sing  for  them  next  Sabbath.  How 
would  you  like  to  send  on  for  your  father 
to  come  at  once?" 

"Oh,  Mr.  Wallingford!"  Edith  clasped 
her  hands  in  delight. 

"I  see  my   plan  would    bo  a  good  one. 


THE  ENGLISHMAN'S  STOBY.  93 

Will  he  be  able  to  start  soon  after  your 
summons  ?  " 

"We  have  hired  a  furnished  house;  and 
Warner  could  underlet  it  I  have  no  doubt." 

"That   is   settled  then." 

Tears  of  gratitude  and  joy  streamed  from 
Edith's  eyes ;  but  suddenly  her  countenance 
changed. 

"  I'm  afraid  after  all/'  she  faltered,  "  that 
I  can't  do  it." 

"Why   not?" 

"  Papa  insisted  I  should  take  every  dol- 
lar I  had  earned  for  the  expenses  of  my 
journey." 

"Is  that  all  the   trouble?" 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  but  that  is  insurmountable.  I 
must  wait  until  I  have  earned  a  hundred 
dollars  at  least." 

"Miss  Colchester,  my  faithful  friend,  my 
benefactress,  will  you  consent  to  accept  a 
loan  from  me  ? "  He  placed  her  own  purse 


94  LEELINAU. 

in  her  baud ;  but  finding  it  was  much  heav- 
ier than  when  she  gave  it  to  his  charge, 
she  would  not  take  it. 

"  I  cannot,"  she  murmured,  drawing  up 
her  form  to  its  full  height.  "  I  should  lose 
my  own  self-respect,  were  I  to  accept  money 
from  a  —  " 

"Don't  say  stranger,"  he  exclaimed,  in- 
terrupting her.  "You  forget  what  your 
faithful  exhortations  have  done  for  me. 
You  have  laid  me  under  obligations  which 
no  wealth  can  ever  pay.  It  would  gratify 
me  more  than  I  can  express,  if  you  will 
allow  me  to  advance  sufficient  for  your  fa- 
ther's journey." 

But  Edith  steadily  declined,  though  she 
softened  the  refusal  by  saying,  it  was  a 
principle  with  her  not  to  run  in  debt. 

Mr.  Wallingford  took  no  pains  to  con- 
ceal his  disappointment,  but  after  walking 
in  silence  a  few  minutes  he  said : 


THE  ENGLISHMAN'S  STORY.  95 

"  I  must  wait  then  till  I  can  explain 
myself  more  fully.  Edith,  will  you  listen 
to  a  sad  tale?" 

He  had  never  addressed  her  so  familiarly 
before,  and  she  was  embarrassed  to  such 
a  degree  she  could  scarcely  reply. 

"  Until  six  months  ago,"  he  began,  plung- 
ing at  once  into  the  subject,  "  I  believed 
myself  to  be  an  orphan.  On  attaining  my 
twenty-fifth  birthday,  I  became  legal  heir 
of  some  property  my  father  left  me ;  with 
his  will  I  found  a  paper  addressed  to  me, 
containing  some  startling  facts  concerning 
myself.  I  learned  then  that  I  had  a  mother, 
an  Indian  princess,  daughter  of  the  Pawnee 
chief  Letelesha,  and  sister  to  the  distin- 
guished brave  Petalesharoo.  My  mother, 
whose  Indian  name  is  Leelinau,  was  married 
to  rny  father  by  Father  Greeny,  a  Romish 
Priest,  and  lived  happily  with  him  until  I 
had  entered  my  fourth  year.  At  that  time 


96  LEELINAU. 

he  was  summoned  home  by  the  sudden 
death  of  his  father  and  older  brother,  the 
Brooks  Wallingford  for  whom  I  was  named, 
and  who  was  the  owner  of  the  volume  of 
Pollock  you  have  seen  me  read.  Owing 
to  the  unwillingness  of  the  chief  Letelesha 
to  part  with  his  daughter,  and  also  her 
own  reluctance  to  leave  him,  my  father 
was  constrained  to  leave  her  and  my 
infant  sister  lona  with  her  tribe,  which 
he  did  with  promises  of  a  speedy  return. 

"At  that  time  my  father  was  not  a 
Christian  in  the  strictest  sense  of  the 
word.  From  his  letters  he  appears  to  have 
been  passionately  attached  to  this  beauti- 
ful princess,  who  was  at  the  same  time 
the  pride  of  her  father  and  the  boast  of 
the  Pawnee  tribe.  On  his  return  to  Eng- 
land he  found  himself  the  owner  of  a 
large  and  valuable  estate  descending  to 
h:'m  the  youngest  son,  on  the  decease  of 


THE  ENGLISHMAN'S  STORY.  97 

the  other  heirs;  and  it  was  impossible  for 
him  to  return  to  America  as  soon  as  he 
wished. 

"  Finding  this  to  be  the  case,  he  made 
a  confidant  of  a  faithful  servant  who  had 
been  in  the  family  thirty  years,  and  sent 
him  to  the  Indian  Territory,  where,  near 
the  river  Platte,  the  Pawnees  have  their 
settlement. 

* 

"  Rogers  performed  the  mission,  had 
repeated  interviews  with  my  mother,  but 
found  unhappily  that  her  aversion  to  change 
of  residence  had  not  diminished.  She  wept 
and  plead  that  her  boy  Blackbird,  which 
was  the  name  she  had  given  me,  should 
be  sent  back  to  her.  Petalesharoo,  th#  brave, 
also  promised  that  after  his  father's  death 
I  should  become  chief  of  the  tribe.  Rogers 
was  at  last  compelled  to  return  to  Eng- 
land alone,  and,  not  only  so,  but  Leelinau 
sent  word,  she  would  never  renounce  her 


98  LEELINAU. 

Indian  life,  and  that  if  he  could  not  re- 
turn to  the  Pawnees,  her  husband  might 
give  her  back  her  son;  and  she  would 
ask  the  Great  Spirit  to  make  her  content. 

"  Rogers  made  arrangements  with  a  priest, 
Father  Greeny,  who  was  laboring  to  chris- 
tianize the  Pawnees,  to  send  her  letters  and 
money  from  England;  and  through  the 
Priest  my  fatjier  at  long  intervals  heard 
from  his  beloved  wife. 

"In  18 —  my  father  embarked  for  Amer- 
ica, leaving  me  at  Eton.  He  thought  it 
more  probable  that  she  would  accompany 
him  back  to  England,  if  she  had  the  hope 
of  seeing  her  son.  In  any  case  he  had 
resolved  that  I  should  never  return  per- 
manently to  live  with  my  mother's  tribe. 

"  On  his  voyage  home  he  died,  and  all 
his  letters  were  lost,  so  that  the  result  of 
his  journey  was  never  known  except  that 
his  wife  did  not  accompany  him. 


THE  ENGLISHMAN'S  STORY.  99 

"Before  he  embarked  he  made  a  will 
bequeathing  me  all  his  estates  in  England, 
and  committing  to  my  care  funds  for  the 
support  of  my  mother.  These  funds  were 
to  come  into  my  legal  possession  on  my 
attaining  my  twenty-fifth  year,  and  in  the 
mean  time  should  my  father  die,  my  guar. 
dian  was  enjoined  to  send  yearly  a  large 
sum  of  money  to  Father  Greeny,  who  was 
the  agent  appointed  by  my  father  to  re- 
ceive it  for  Leelinau. 

"  It  is  now  eighteen  years  since  my 
father  left  England;  and  I  am  about  to 
fulfil  his  last  wishes,  visit  my  mother,  and 
if  she  is  not  already  a  Christian,  try  to 
secure  her  conversion." 


CHAPTER 

EDITH'S  SINGING. 

T  is  impossible  to  describe  the  in- 
tense interest  with  which  Edith  lis- 
tened to  this  account.  Unconscious- 


ly  she   stopped,   and  gazed  in   her  compan- 
ion's face. 

"Oh,    I  hope    you  will    find    her!" 

The  tones  of  her  voice,  the  changing 
expression  of  her  glowing  countenance,  gave 
added  fervor  to  her  words. 

"Leelinau  means,  my  dear  life"  remark- 
ed Mr.  Wallingford,  smiling. 

"And  you  are  Blackbird?"  exclaimed 
Edith,  her  cheeks  dimpling  with  mirth. 
"  How  very  strange !  I  thank  you  so  much 
for  telling  me." 

ON) 


EDITH'S  SINGING.  101 

"  My  one,  only  confidant ! "  He  glanced 
at  her  earnestly,  but  the  long  lashes  prov- 
ed an  effectual  shield  to  her  soul-speak- 
ing eyes. 

"  Does  it  not  seem  as  if  a  kind  Provi- 
dence were  aiding  me?"  he  asked,  "to 
lead  me  into  direct  communication  with 
Father  Rush.  I  had  letters  to  him  from 
England  as  one  from  whom  I  could  gain 
information  respecting  Father  Greeny,  who, 
we  learn,  has  been  removed  from  the  Paw- 
nees, and  on  that  account  has  not  been 
heard  from  for  three  years." 

"  Then  you  cannot  be  sure  that  your 
mother  is  still  living?"  suggested  Edith, 
with  deep  feeling. 

"  No ;  but  she  was  at  the  last  account. 
I  shall  start  on  Monday  for  St.  Louis  in 
company  with  Father  Rush;  and  if  I  can 
find  Father  Greeny,  I  hope  to  prevail  on 
him  to  visit  the  Pawnees  with  me." 


102  LEELINAU. 

"What  a  meeting  it  will  be!"  Edith's 
excitement  found  vent  in  a  burst  of  tears. 

Mr.  Wallingford  seized  her  hand,  but 
dropped  it  suddenly  with  great  embarrass- 
ment. 

"I  have  made  a  vow,  Miss  Colchester, 
to  give  all  my  strength  and  energies  to 
the  work  my  father  left  me.  I  feel  that  it 
has  been  too  long  delayed,  and  that  it 
would  have  been  better,  far  better,  for  me 
to  seek  my  mother  instantly  after  leaving 
Oxford  rather  than  to  spend  two  years  in 
travelling  over  the  continent;  but  I  was 
not  then  aware  that  I  had  a  mother 
living. 

"  If  I  succeed  in  the  object  of  my  jour- 
ney ;  if  God  graciously  blesses  my  mission, 
whether  it  be  at  the  end  of  six  months 
or  six  years,  then  I  shall  be  free  to  con- 
sult my  own  wishes.  May  I  count  on 
your  kindness  and  sympathy  then  ? " 


EDITH'S  SINGING.  103 

"  Six  years  ! "  How  painfully  those  words 
echoed  in  Edith's  heart,  "  Si x  years!111 
How  much  might  occur  before  the  end  of 
that  period.  She  was  not  conscious  that 
the  color  had  faded  from  her  cheeks,  nor 
that  her  companion  was  regarding  her  with 
the  deepest  solicitude.  She  scarcely  heard 
or  heeded  his  last  words,  but,  with  an  ef- 
fort to  command  her  voice,  inquired: 

"  Will  there  be  danger  ?  I  mean  will 
the  Pawnees  receive  you  kindly  ? " 

"I  am  one  of  themselves,"  murmured 
the  gentleman.  "  I  do  not  think  they  will 
attempt  violence.  If  my  mother  is  living, 
I  imagine  the  chief  difficulty  will  be  in 
leaving  the  tribe." 

By  this  time  our  friends  had  taken  a 
wide  circuit,  and  now  found  themselves 
near  the  Rector's  door.  Mr.  Wallingford 
detained  Edith  one  moment  to  say : 

"As   your    pride   or    self-respect,  as  you 


104  LEELINAtl. 

flatteringly  term  it,  prevented  your  accept- 
ance  of  a  small  sum  from  a  friend,  I  shall 
feel  safe  in  leaving  you  with  Mrs.  Cahill. 
She  is  a  noble  woman  who  will  love  you 
like  a  child,  otherwise  I  should  have  been 
pleased  to  know  that  you  were  pleasantly 
established  in  a  home  of  your  own,  with 
your  father  and  my  friend  Warner  to 
protect  you." 

"  I  thank  you,  Mr.  Wallingford,"  was 
Edith's  blushing  reply.  "  I  can  not  tell 
you  how  much  I  thank  you,  but  I  am 
ashamed  to  intrude  my  little  cares  upon 
you  when  you  have  so  many  of  your 
own." 

"  There  they  are ! "  exclaimed  Nora  Ca- 
hill, running  to  open  the  door.  "We  were 
afraid  you  had  lost  your  way." 

Mrs.  Cahill  glanced  significantly  at  her 
husband  when  the  friends  entered.  The 
subject  of  their  conversation  had  been  far 


EDITH'S  SINGING.  105 

from  trifling;  and  they  both  bore  the 
marks  of  deep  feeling. 

To  confess  the  truth  Mrs.  Cahill,  though 
one  of  the  best  of  women,  was  something 
of  a  match-maker.  While  in  Rome  she  had 
considered  Mr.  Wallingford  past  hope,  so  en- 
tirely did  he  ignore  the  charms  of  all  the 
fair  ladies  brought  to  his  notice.  With 
her  native  shrewdness  she  was  not  an  hour 
in  the  presence  of  the  travellers  without 
perceiving  that  the  gentleman  was  more 
than  usually  interested  in  his  charge ;  that 
he  watched  every  change  of  expression 
in  her  soul-speaking  face,  and  listened 
almost  with  reverence  to  the  tones  of  her 
voice. 

Unaware  of  the  strong  tie  of  Christian 
love  Avhich  bound  them  together,  of  course 
she  attributed  Edith's  varying  color,  the 
quick  drooping  of  the  heavy  eye-lashes, 
the  start  of  pleasure  when  addressed  b} 


106  LEELINAU. 

Mr.  "Wallingford,  to  the  knowledge  that 
she  was  beloved,  and  was  not  averse  to  giv- 
ing her  heart  in  return. 

"  Are  you  rested  enough  to  sing  one 
piece?"  asked  Georgianna,  as  merry  a 
piece  of  humanity  as  one  often  sees. 

"  Oh,  yes !  I'm  seldom  too  tired  to  play 
and  sing." 

Mr.  "Wallingford  sprang  from  his  seat  to 
lead  her  to  the  piano.  But  she  declined 
his  arm,  saying : 

"I   feel   already   quite   at  home  here." 

"How  queer,"  laughed  Georgey,  half 
aloud. 

"  What    is    queer  ? "    asked    her  mother. 

"I  thought  we  should  have  to  tease  Miss 
Wallingford." 

"  My  name  is  Colchester,  or  Edith  I 
should  like  better,"  interposed  our  friend, 
with  a  vivid  blush. 

"Now   Miss   Edith  you  have   spoiled    my 


EDITH'S  SINGING.  107 

ftm.  I  have  been  spending  my  time  since 
you  were  away  in  composing  a  nice  speech 
urging  you  to  sing.  I  thought  you  would 
plead  that  you  had  a  cold,  that  your  head 
ached,  in  order  to  be  teased ;  that  is  the 
fashionable  style  in  Savannah." 

They  all  laughed,  and  Edith,  why  she 
could  not  explain,  caught  the  merry  Miss 
by  the  arm,  and  gave  her  a  warm  kiss. 

"  You're  a  dear  child,"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Cahill,  patting  Edith's  shoulder.  "We  shall 
not  let  you  leave  us  in  a  hurry." 

Mr.  Wallingford  arose  and  walked  to  the 
window.  Even  to  friends  as  beloved  as 
these,  he  could  not  endure  to  exhibit  the 
emotion  which  Edith's  impassioned  singing 
inspired.  She  ran  her  fingers  over  the 
keys,  and  then  threw  her  whole  heart  into 
Eve's  plaintive  cry, 

"Must  I   thus   leave    thee,    Paradise?" 

The  effect  was  electrical.     Mr.  Cahill,  who 


108  LEELINAU. 

had  thrown  himself  into  a  chair  to  enjoy 
the  treat,  started  up,  and  stood  immovable, 
where  he  could  catch  every  sound.  His 
wife  hid  her  face  in  her  handkerchief,  and 
wept,  while  the  two  daughters  held  their 
breath  to  listen,  until,  when  the  singer 
reached  the  plaintive  wail: 

"  0  flowers 

That  never  will  in  other  climate  grow 
My   early   visitation  and   ray   last 
At  eve;  which   I   bred   up   with   tender  hand 
From  the   first  opening  bud,   and  gave  ye   names. 
Who   now   shall  rear  ye  to   the   sun,   or  rank 
Your  tribes,    and  water   from   the   ambrosial  fount  ?" 

Georgey,  wholly  overcome,  rushed  from  the 
room,  and  sat,  sobbing,  on  the  stairs. 

It  seemed  to  the  listeners  as  if,   in  vision 
rapt,   they   could   see  — 

"The   Son  of  God 

In  pity  lest  in  some   rash  hour  they  dare, 
Fall'n   as  they   were,   to   touch  the   tree  of  life, 


EDITH'S  SINGIXG.  109 

And  thus  (disastrous  victory)   achieve 

An  immortality  in  mortal   sin, 

Drave  them  before  Him,   weeping  as  they  went, 

Forth  from   that  happy   garden,   through  its  walks 

Of  fruit-trees,   by  its   crystal  rivulets, 

And  past  its  countless  bowers   of  blossoming  shade, 

To  Eden's  distant  gates." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    NEW    ORGANIST. 

Edith  had  finished,  she  arose 
left  the   room.     It   was   impos- 
sible  for    her    not    to    feel,  keenly 
feel,  the  passionate  utterances  to  which  her 
rich,   full   voice   had  given   expression.      In- 
deed Edith's  singing  could  not  have  touched 
other  hearts   as   it   did  unless   the    emotion 
had   emanated  from  her.  own.     For  the  time 
she   felt   herself  to  be    the    saddest  woman 
whose   name   is   chronicled    upon    the    page 
of  time.     Eve,  — weak,  sinful,  credulous,  lov- 
ing   Eve, —  who  had   bartered,   the  favor  of 
God,   the    society   of  the  sons    of  God,  who 
had   sung  their  morning   song  in   Paradise, 
the  happiness  of   a  world  —  for     what?  for 

(110) 


THE   NEW   ORGANIST. 


Ill 


an  apple  —  and  for  her  sin  she  was  con- 
demned forever  to  leave  the  delights  of 
Eden,  —  to  feel  the  gnawings  of  unavailing 
regret, —  to  witness,  among  those  she  loved, 
the  saddest  of  all  sights,  a  son  lying  stark 
and  cold  in  death  in  consequence  of  her 
disobedience. 

"  Wonderful !  wonderful !  !  "  exclaimed  Mr. 
Cahill  seating  himself,  and  wiping  big  drops 
of  perspiration  from  his  forehead.  "  Won- 
derful !  I  never  before  realized  what  a 
power  there  is  in  the  human  voice. 
Wallingford,  you  left  the  half  untold;  and 
yet  I  suspected  you'  of  extravagance." 

Neither  Mrs.  Cahill  nor  Nora  spoke.  The 
daughter,  sitting  near  her  mother,  hid  her 
tears  on  the  lady's  shoulder. 

All  were  oppressed  with  a  sadness  which 
they  could  not  shake  off;  Mr.  Wallingford 
recalled  to  mind  what  Edith  had  said  about 
singing  in  public,  saying  to  himself:  "  What 


112  LEELINAU. 

crowds  she  would  call  around  her  by  the 
exercise  of  her  powers ! "  In  imagination 
he  drew  a  melancholy  picture  of  her  fu- 
ture, when  he  was  living  with  savages ; 
and  she  in  the  effort  to  provide-  for  her 
father  should  be  tempted  into  public  life. 
"  Oh,"  he  asked  himself,  "  why  can  I  not 
free  myself  from  my  vow ! " 

Happily  the  tea-bell  recalled  him  from  his 
painful  reveries  to  present  realities. 

Edith  came  from  her  chamber  to  the  sup- 
per-room with  a  calm,  elevated  brow.  Hang- 
ing on  her  arm,  trying  to  hide  her  swol- 
len eyes,  came  Georgey,  her  merriment  for 
the  time  effectually  checked. 

After  tea  company  came  in,  and  Edith 
sang  again,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Wallingford. 
The  fame  of  the  new  organist  was  spread- 
ing rapidly. 

Mr.  Wallingford  left  at  an  early  hour  for 
his  room  at  the  hotel.  There  was  quite  a 


THE  NEW   ORGANIST.  113 

struggle  in  his  breast  as  he  walked  through 
the  squares.  On  one  side  he  was  rejoiced 
that  Edith  had  won  friends  for  herself, — 
that,  aside  from  her  wonderful  powers  as  a 
musician,  her  beauty,  her  sweet,  modest 
grace,  her  Christian  humility,  and  meekness 
which  shone  so  conspicuously  in  every  action, 
the  dignity  which  repelled  undue  familiarity, 
all  this,  united  to  her  warm,  loving  heart, 
would  render  her  society  sought  as  an  or- 
nament to  the  most  refined  circles. 

On  the  other  hand  there  was  one  bitter, 
perhaps  selfish  reflection : 

"  She  is  independent  now  of  my  care, 
and  will  be  happy  when  I  am  far  away. 
0  Edith !  0  Leelinau !  my  unknown  mother, 
how  much  I  sacrifice  for  you  I " 

Thursday,  Friday,  and  Saturday,  passed 
all  too  quickly.  On  Friday  evening  Mrs. 
Cahill  invited  a  select  circle  of  friends  to 
meet  the  strangers.  When  they  went  away 


114  LEELINAU. 

the  question,  "  Who  is  to  be  our  organist?" 
was  settled,  at  least  in  the  minds  of  the 
Committee. 

In  the  meantime  very  suspicious  move- 
ments were  noticed  by  Mrs.  Cahill  and  her 
daughters.  Mr.  Wallingford  and  the  rector 
were  absent  hours  at  a  time;  and  when 
they  returned  condescended  no  explanation 
to  the  inquisitive. 

It  was  decided  that  for  the  present,  cer- 
tainly until  her  father  joined  her,  Edith 
should  have  a  home  in  the  family  of  the 
rector;  paying  her  expenses  of  board,  etc., 
by  her  instructions  of  Nora  and  her  lively 
sister. 

This  arrangement  was  a  happy  one  for 
both  parties,  and  Mrs.  Cahill  congratulated 
herself  upon  having  so  distinguished  a  stran- 
ger under  her  roof,  and  committed  to  her 
care. 

"  Yes,    Mr.    Wallingford,"   she    exclaimed, 


THE  NEW   ORGANIST.  115 

when  he  had  been  expressing  his  wish  that 
all  should  be  done  to  make  Edith  happy. 
"Yes,  I'm  not  quite  blind,  though  I  say 
nothing,  I  see  how  it  is ;  and  I'll  keep  her 
safe  till  you  return  from  your  travels." 
She  had  not  an  inkling  of  the  object  of 
his  journey,  though  she  often  playfully  re- 
marked in  his  absence,  that  he  bore  him- 
self like  an  Indian  chief. 

"  Remember,"  he  urged,  "  that  I  per- 
suaded her  to  come  to  Savannah,  when  she 
was  on  her  way  to  New  Orleans.  I  was 
quite  sure  you  would  take  her  to  your 
heart.  But  you  will  acknowledge  that  I  am 
in  a  degree  responsible  for  her  success." 

Before  Saturday  night,  Miss  Colchester 
had  the  promise  of  seven  pupils,  which, 
including  the  salary  of  the  organist,  con- 
vinced her  that  it  would  be  safe  to  send 
for  her  father.  Indeed  she  almost  regret- 
ted that  she  had  refused  Mr.  Wallingford's 


116  LEELIXAU. 

loan.  The  gentleman  still  retained  hei 
purse,  and  she  was  reluctant  to  ask  him 
for  it  after  what  had  occurred.  She  wrote 
in  exuberant  spirits  to  Montreal,  minutely 
detailing  the  incidents  of  her  journey, 
the  kindness,  and  respectful  care  of  Mr. 
Wallingford,  and  the  hospitable  warmth  of 
Mrs.  Cahill's  reception  to  her  fireside.  She 
ended  by  saying : 

"  Dear  father.  Hold  yourself  ready  to 
come  whenever  I  send  for  you,  which  I 
shall  do  as  soon  as  I  have  money  to  pay 
your  travelling  expenses.  In  our  pleasant 
Southern  home  we  will  forget  the  trials  of 
the  past." 

This  letter  when  superscribed,  Edith  re- 
quested Mr.  Cahill  to  post  with  his  own. 
She  was  somewhat  at  a  loss  to  account 
for  the  eagerness  with  which  he  undertook 
the  commission,  or  for  the  significant  glance 
passing  between  him  and  Mr.  Wallingford. 


THE  NEW   ORGANIST.  117 

"  Mamma,"  cried  Georgianna,  running  in 
from  the  street  an  hour  later.  "Did  you 
know  the  pretty  house  at  the  corner  of  our 
street  is  rented?  The  advertisement  is 
taken  from  the  windows;  and  the  women 
are  at  work  getting  it  ready  for  the  fur- 
niture." 

"  No,  my  dear,"  answered  her  mother, 
somewhat  excited.  "Did  you  hear  the  name 
of  the  new  occupant?" 

"  No,  mamma ;  but  I'll  find  out  this  after- 
noon." 

"You're  a  veritable  daughter  of  Eve, 
Georgey,"  remarked  her  father,  looking  up 
from  his  paper. 

On  the  next  Sabbath  the  new  organist  ac- 
quitted herself  to  the  entire  satisfaction  of 
her  friends.  After  this  one  trial  there  was 
no  question  of  her  success. 

"  Such  a  voice,  to  say  nothing  of  her 
skill  as  a  pianist,  would  make  a  fort  me  for 


118  LEELINAU. 

any  one,"  suggested  one  of  the  Committee. 
"We  must  make  our  terms  with  her  so  lib- 
eral that  she  will  remain  content.'' 

On  Sabbath  evening  Edith  was  looking 
over  an  illuminated  copy  of  Pilgrim's  Prog- 
ress which  she  had  taken  from  the  table, 
when  Mrs.  Cahill  requested  her  to  read 
aloud  for  the  benefit  of  the  company. 

"I  like  to  read,"  said  the  young  girl, 
with  artless  warmth;  "but  will  it  not  dis- 
turb the  others?  " 

"  We  usually  devote  our  Sabbath  even- 
ings to  reading  and  sacred  music,"  re- 
marked Mr.  Cahill.  "If  you  read  half 
as  well  as  you  sing,  I  shall  be  delighted 
to  listen." 

"And,"  added  Mr.  Wallingford,  smiling, 
"you  will  be  redeeming  a  promise  you 
once  made  to  me.  Let  me  see,  I  was  to 
judge  whether  it  was  expedient  for  you 
to  give  public  readings." 


THE   NEW   ORGANIST.  119 

"  Thanks  to  you  and  our  kind  friendg 
here,  there  will  probably  be  no  need  of 
my  resorting  to  a  course  so  distasteful 
to  my  father,"  urged  the  young  girl,  with 
changing  color. 

"  "Would  it  not  be  distasteful  to  yourself?" 
asked  Mrs.  Cahill,  in  surprise. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  shall  fall  in  your  opinion 
when  I  confess  that  were  the  necessity  ur- 
gent I  would  not  mind  it.  To  be  sure 
the  criticism,  etc.,  would  be  unpleasant  ; 
but  when  once  accustomed  to  the  sound 
of  my  own  voice  in  a  strange  place,  I 
forget  myself  entirely." 

"I  can  testify  that  you  thought  your- 
self Eve  the  other  day/'  remarked  the 
rector,  with  a  shrug  of  bis  shoulders. 
.'I  can't  imagine  anything  that  would  tempt 
me  to  listen  to  her  wails  again.-" 

"Oh,  pa!"  exclaimed  his  wife.  "What 
will  Edith  think  of  you?" 


120  LEELINAU. 

"  That  my  frankness  is  to  be  imitated. 
Do  you  not  agree  with  me,  Walling- 
ford?" 

He  laughed  as  he  answered,  "  Without 
doubt;  but  we  are  losing  the  reading." 

He  approached  the  table  and  taking  the 
book  from  Edith's  hand  selected  a  portion 
which  he  gave  her.  It  was  the  arrival  of 
Christian  at  the  palace  called  Beautiful, 
and  his  talk  with  the  three  virgins,  —  Pru- 
dence, Piety  and  Charity. 

Edith  read  well  even  when  she  knew 
critics  were  ready  to  pronounce  upon  her 
with  severity.  She  read  freely,  forgetting 
her  own  identity ;  and  she  gave  herself 
up  for  the  hour  to  the  subject  before  her. 

She  was  herself  an  actor  in  the  scene; 
and  there  were  both  power  and  pathos  in 
her  rendering. 

Even  the  change  in  her  countenance 
was  wonderful,  personifying  each  character 


THE  NEW   ORGANIST.  121 

as  she  read:  First,  Christian,  triumphant 
at  having  passed  the  lions  in  iafety,  meekly 
recounting  to  Piety  what  the  Lord  had 
done  for  him. 

"  I  saw  One,  as  I  thought  in  my  mind, 
hanging,  bleeding  upon  a  tree ;  and  the 
very  sight  of  him  made  my  burden  fall 
off  my  back ;  for  I  groaned  under  a  very 
heavy  burden ;  but  then  it  fell  down  from 
off  me." 

Then  the  pertinent  questions  of  the 
virgins,  leading  the  pilgrim  to  recount 
more  fully  the  incidents  of  his  journey 
Zionward.  As  Edith  read,  she  threw  her 
whole  soul  into  the  feelings  of  the  speaker. 
The  effect  was  wonderful. 

"  I  wish  I  could  read  like  that,"  said 
the  Rector,  humbly,  "  Miss  Edith,  who  was 
your  teacher?" 

"My  father,  sir.  lie  used  to  drill  me 
when  I  was  only  five  years  old.  First, 


122  LEELINAT7. 

he  explained  the  meaning  of  the  passage 
when  it  was  fbscure,  and  then  read  it  him 
self.  It  was  my  delight  even  then  to 
try  and  imitate  the  mellow,  changing  tones 
of  his  voice.  I'm  so  sorry/'  addressing 
Mr.  Wallingford,  "  that  you  did  not  see 
my  father." 

"I  still  hope  to  have  that  pleasure,  Miss 
Colchester,  before  I  return  to  England." 

The  company  did  not  separate  until  a 
late  hour,  for  Mr.  Wallingford  was  to 
leave  in  the  morning,  and  the  parting 
(poor  Edith  hoped  no  one  suspected  what 
the  parting  was  to  her)  must  take  place 
now. 

Mrs.  Cahill  tried  to  make  her  husband 
understand  that  the  lovers,  for  such  she 
persisted,  in  spite  of  Edith's  remonstrances 
to  call  them,  must  be  left  by  themselves; 
but  all  her  hints  and  winks  were  disre- 
garded ;  and  she  was  planning  a  retreat  when 


THE  NEW   ORGANIST.  123 

Mr.  Wallingford  frankly  requested  a  few 
moments'  private  conversation  with  Miss 
Colchester  before  he  took  his  departure 
from  the  house 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE    SEPARATION. 

UT  when  Mr.  Wallingford  found  him- 
self alone  with  Edith,  he  could  not 
find  voice  to  utter  one  word. 


She  was  the  first  to  rally :  "  I  suppose  you 
will  write  Mr.  Cahill?"  she  said  frankly. 

"  Yes,  unless  you  will  permit  me  to  ad- 
dress my  notes  directly  to  you.  I  have  allow- 
ed myself  to  hope  that  you  would  continue  to 
be  my  friend  and  adviser.  I  know  not  what 
trials  or  temptations  I  may  have  to  en- 
counter; but  I  do  know  that  it  would  be  a 
source  of  the  greatest  comfort  to  be  allowed 
to  report  my  progress  to  you,  and  ask  your 
sympathy.  I  do  not  forget  ^hat  I  have  just 
commenced  the  pilgrim's  journey,  nor  the 

(124) 


THE  SEPAKATION.  125 

efficient  assistance  you  rendered  me  when 
I  was  in  the  slough  of  Despond." 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  hear  from  you," 
Edith  answered,  her  soft  brown  eyes  kind- 
ling with  pleasure.  "  I  shall  never  forget 
your  kindness,  Mr.  Wallingford." 

He  made  a  quick  gesture  of  impatience. 
"  Mere  selfishness,  Edith.  Your  pride  pre- 
vented my  sending  for  your  father;  but 
Mr.  Cahill  has  promised  to  befriend  you; 
f.nd  you  must  give  -me  your  word,  I  have 
A  right  to  that  by  the  obligation,  I  am 
under  to  you,  that  you  will  not  allow  your 
pride  to  interfere  there.  Accept  aid  from 
him  as  you  would  from  your  father,  and 
do  not  keep  me  ignorant  of  anything  that 
concerns  you.  Do  you  promise?" 

He  looked  in  her  face  not  tenderly,  but 
almost  in  a  defiant  manner,  as  if  he  would 
say,  "  you  dare  not  refuse,"  and  found  it 
difficult  to  control  his  feelings. 


126  LEELINAU. 


"I  promise,"  she  murmured,  her  lip 
quivering.  "Oh,  Mr.  Wallingford!  It  seems 
to  me  that  now  for  the  first  time,  I  realize 
what  a  different  thing  it  would  have  been 
for  me  to  travel  two  thousand  miles  alone. 
It  was  a  kind  Providence  that  led  you 
to  address  me  in  the  Montreal  Station." 

"  It  was  an  event  for  which  I  certainly 
shall  never  cease  to  be  thankful,  Edith; 
you  see  how  readily  the  name  falls  from 
my  lips,  Edith,"  lingering  on  the  word. 
•  Can't  you  give  me  a  motto  ? " 

She  drew  the  little  book  from  her  pocket, 
and  put  it  into  his  hands.  "  May  it  com- 
fort you  as  it  has  comforted  me." 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  raising  it  to  his 
lips,  '•  but  give  me  one  beside." 

She  paused  a  moment  in  thought,  then 
repeated  these  words : 

"  In  all  thy  ways  acknowledge  God,  and 
he  shall  direct  thy  paths." 


THE  SEPARATION. 


127 


"  Thank  you.  For  me  nothing  could  be 
more  appropriate." 

He  extended  his  hand,  and  she  laid 
hers  within  it.  Not  a  \vcid  was  spoken 
on  either  side.  In  another  moment  the 
door  had  closed  behind  him. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

TEE     NEW     HOME. 

T  was  of  no  use  for  Edith  to  deny 
that  an  engagement  of  marriage  or 
something  that  implied  an  engage- 
ment, existed  between  her  and  their  late 
guest ;  her  pallid  cheeks  and  drooping  eye- 
lids proved  that  there  was  more  than 
friendship  between  them,  and  also  her  deep 
sorrow  at  the  separation. 

The  young  girl  at  last  confided  to  Mr. 
Cahill  the  circumstances  connected  with 
Mr.  Wallingford's  conversion. 

"He  told  my  husband  that  for  months 
his  mind  had  been  tortured  with  fears  and 
doubts,"  returned  the  lady.  "He  hinted 
at  some  work  he  had  promised  to  under- 

(128) 


THE  NEW  HOME.  129 

take;  but  his  unfitness  for  it  made  him  a 
prey  to  the  most  gloomy  forebodings.  Do 
you  know  what  first  made  him  interested 
in  you,  and  a  believer  in  the  sincerity 
of  your  religion?" 

"  No." 

"  It  was  observing  the  comfort,  you  de- 
rived from  a  passage  of  Scripture  when 
you  were  bowed  down  with  sorrow.  He 
read  it  over  your  shoulder.  '  Let  not  your 
heart  be  troubled.'  He  said  you  received 
it  as  if  you  had  heard  it  addressed  to 
you,  directly  from  the  Saviour's  lips;  and 
then  he  first  realized  the  intimate  relation 
existing  between  Christ  and  his  disciples." 

Two,  three  weeks  passed  before  Edith 
received  an  answer  to  her  letter  from  her 
father.  She  had  begun  to  feel  anxious  lest 
some  calamity  had  befallen  him,  when  Mr. 
Cahill  put  into  her  hands  a  letter  and  sat 
do\vn  to  watch  her  read  it. 


130  LEELINAU. 

The  first  date  was  the  day  after  she  left 
home.  It  was  written  in  a  journal  of 
daily  events.  Eagerly  she  turned  to  the 
bottom  of  the  page  for  the  last  news,  when 
the  watcher  saw  her  eyes  open  wide,  and 
her  lips  part  in  astonishment. 

"  I  don't  understand  what  he  means." 
" '  I  must  leave  you,  my  daughter,  to  ex- 
press my  thanks  to  your  friends.  I  can- 
not find  words  to  do  so.  Our  good  phy- 
sician tells  me  that  another  winter  here, 
after  my  late  attack  of  pneumonia,  would 
be  hazardous  in  the  extreme.  By  this  we 
may  learn  how  safe  it  is  to  trust  our  Lord. 
Warner  has  obtained  permission  of  our 
landlord  to  give  up  our  lease.  Providence 

permitting,  we  shall  therefore,  start  the  last 

• 

week  in  October,  reaching  New  York  by 
the  shorter  route  as  your  friend  advises, 
so  as  to  be  ready  for  the  steamer  which 
on  Saturday,  the  twenty-fifth  instant.' " 


THE  NEW   HOME.  131 

Edith  let  the  journal  drop  from  her 
hands,  and  buried  her  face  to  hide  her 
tears. 

"  Father  has  been  sick,  and  I  away ; 
but  now  I  shall  see  him  again.  I  cannot 
realize  the  happiness  in  store  for  me.  Mr. 
Cahill,  what  can  I  say  to  you?  Did  you 
write  my  father?" 

"  I  never  allow  my  daughters  to  pry 
into  my  secrets,"  he  answered  evasively, 
laughing  as  he  spoke.  "  I  will  say  this, 
however,  the  news  is  not  entirely  unex- 
pected, and  as  our  friends  will  be  here 
next  week,  it  is  time  we  were  looking  up 
a  house." 

"  Yes,  sir,  or  a  few  rooms ;  but  I  must 
run  and  tell  Mrs.  Cahill  my  good  news, 
and  then  read  my  long  letter.  I  hope  I'm 
not  dreaming  ah1  this  time." 

It  was  now  that  the  secret  came  out, 
the  mysterious  walks,  the  whispered  con- 


132  LEELINAU. 

ferences  between  Mr.  "Wallingford  and  his 
host.  In  anticipation  of  Mr.  Colchester's 
arrival,  a  house  near  by  had  been  hired 
by  Mr.  Cahill,  and  the  upholsterers  were 
still  at  work  fitting  it  up  for  its  new  oc- 
cupants. 

"  It  is  very  easy  to  guess  whose  purse 
has  been  employed,"  remarked  Mrs.  Cahill, 
glancing  curiously,  and  rather  indignantly 
in  her  husband's  face.  "  I  give  you  the 
credit,  my  dear,  of  having  the  heart  to  do 
all  this ;  but  unfortunately  your  means  are 
too  limited  to  afford  such  a  luxury.  Still 
I  must  say  it  would  have  been  more  like 
a  good  husband,  had  you  confided  in  me." 

"  It  was  not  my  own  secret,  Mrs.  Cahill  • 
and  I  will  acknowledge  that  it  was  a  great 
trial  for  me  to  keep  it  from  you." 

"Did  the  gentleman  confide  to  you  the 
state  of  his  affections ?  "  she  asked,  resolv- 
ing to  sift  the  matter  to  the  bottom. 


THE  NEW  HOME.  133 

"  Not   a  word  on   the   subject." 

"  "Well,  my  dear,  all  I  have  to  say  is, 
that  it  is  very  strange  altogether,  and  if 
she  were  a  daughter  of  mine  — " 

At  this  moment  Edith  and  Nora  walked 
into  the  room,  having  just  returned  from 
the  new  house. 

"  There  is  so  much  I  ought  to  say 
that  I  cannot  utter  a  word,"  faltered  Edith, 
sinking  into  the  nearest  chair.  "How  have 
I  deserved  such  generous  kindness?" 

To  Mrs.  CahilTs  astonishment,  her  hus- 
band appropriated  these  remarks  to  him- 
self. 

"  I  feel  sure,  I  shall  get  my  pay,"  he 
said,  laughing. 

She  gazed  in  his  flushed  face  with 
wifely  indignation,  and  then  exclaimed: 

"  Edith  Colchester,  I  am  not  bound  to 
keep  anybody's  secret,  though  it  would 
have  been  better  perhaps  for  somebody  to 


134  LEELINAU. 

confide  in  me.  You  need  not  thank  us, 
though  we  are  as  glad  to  have  your 
father  settled  near  us,  as  anybody  can  be." 

Georgey  came  dancing  into  the  room, 
having  peeped  through  the  crack  of  the 
door,  and  heard  the  last  remark. 

"  'Twas  Mr.  "Wallingford,  I'm  sure  of  it, 
I  saw  him  one  day  coming  out  of  the 
house  at  the  corner.  Oh,  nobody  can 
cheat  me ! " 

Of  all  present,  Edith  was  the  only  one 
who  made  no  remark  on  this.  What  could 
she  say  ? 

The  arrival  of  the  steamer  was  the  event 
now  talked  of  and  longed  for.  Edith  re- 
membered her  promise  to  Mr.  Wallingford 
at  parting,  and  resolved  to  accept  his  kind- 
ness in  the  same  spirit  it  was  offered. 
She  resolved,  therefore,  to  receive  her 
father  in  the  house  made  ready  for  her 
use,  and  on  Tuesday  night  took  posses- 


THE   NEW   HOME.  135 

sion  of  the  premises,  Mrs.  Cahill  having 
hired  for  her  a  stout  colored  woman  as 
cook. 

The  meeting  between  father  and  child 
was  deeply  affecting,  especially  as  during 
his  late  attack  of  pneumonia,  he  had  given 
up  the  hope  of  seeing  her  again  in  this 
world.  There  was  but  one  thing  to  mar 
their  enjoyment.  The  long  journey  had 
prostrated  the  old  man's  strength;  and 
Edith  felt  a  cold  grip  at  her  heart  as 
she  gazed  upon  his  pale  features,  and 
his  emaciated  form,  and  realized  that  he 
was  still  far  from  well. 

In  the  evening  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cahill  came 
to  welcome  the  stranger,  but  found  him 
lying  on  the  sofa  greatly  exhausted,  and 
therefore,  made  a  brief  call. 

A  week's  rest,  however,  united  to  Edith's 
care,  and  a  tonic  prescribed  by  the  skil- 
ful physician,  produced  a  marked  change 


136 


LEELINAU. 


for  the  better,  so  that  Edith  went  onco 
more  about  house  with  a  bright  smile, 
singing  as  she  went. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

WALLIXGFOED'S  LETTER. 

HERE  were  many  causes  to  make 
Edith  contented.  She  had  as  many 
pupils  as  she  could  attend  to ;  her 
services  in  the  choir  were  increasingly 
popular  |  and  she  had  received  a  long  letter 
from  her  absent  friend,  which  I  shall  take 
the  liberty  to  copy  entire. 

"I  take  it  for  granted,  dear  Edith,  that 
you  will  allow  me  to  relate  every  particu- 
lar connected  with  my  mission.  On  reach- 
ing St.  Louis  in  company  with  Father 
Rush,  I  found  that  Father  Greeny  was 
under  censure  in  the  Church  for  too  great 
liberality  of  sentiments.  His  parish  had 
been  taken  from  him;  and  he  had  sudden- 

(137) 


138  LEELINATI. 

ly  disappeared  some  months  ago.  As  I 
had  resolved  not  to  make  a  confidant  of 
Father  Rush,  I  had  no  other  course  than 
to  proceed  at  once  up  the  Missouri  as  far 
as  Platte  River,  between  winch  and 
the  Kansas  lies  the  settlement  of  the 
Pawnees. 

"  Everything  seemed  novel  and  strange 
to  me  until  I  saw  upon  the  banks  of 
the  Missouri  the  tents  of  the  Otoes,  a 
tribe  near  the  Pawnees,  when  a  rush  of 
childish  memories  swept  over  me  of  my 
early  life  amid  such  scenes.  I  was  once 
more  an  Indian  pappoose  dressed  in  fine 
cloth  ornamented  with  wampum  and  feath- 
ers. I  saw  again  a  large  wigwam  with 
skin  doors,  inside  of  which  on  a  mat  of 
bear-skin  sat  a  beautiful  lady.  She  was 
weeping  bitterly  while  before  her  stood  a 
boy  whom  she  alternately  pressed  to  her 
oosom  and  pushed  from  her  sight.  The  lady 


WALLINGFORD'S  LETTEB.  139 

was  Leelinau,  the  Indian  princess,  my 
mother;  the  boy  was  Blackbird,  myself. 

"  As  you  may  suppose  this  tide  of  mem- 
ories was  unexpected  and  overwhelming. 
They  drew  my  heart  to  my  unknown 
mother  with  an  inexpressible  longing. 
*  Will  she  recognize  me  ? '  was  a  question 
I  often  asked  myself,  and  which  I  tried 
in  vain  to  answer.  'Will  her  affection  for 
me  lead  her  to  leave  her  home,  renounce 
the  nomadic  life  she  had  always  enjoyed, 
and  be  happy  where  conventionalities  su- 
perabound?'  Neither  could  I  satisfactorily 
answer  this  question. 

In  the  midst  of  my  surmisings,  I  rec- 
ognized the  possibility  of  her  decease;  and 
oh,  how  my  heart  sank  within  me  as  I 
feared,  if  such  were  the  caso,  that  she 
had  died  without  the  knowledge  of  a  Sa- 
viour's love !  This  idea  was  so  distressing 
that  I  found  no  relief  except  in  prayer. 


140  LEELINAU. 

"At  length  we  approached  the  place 
where  I  must  quit  the  steamer,  and  take 
passage  in  a  smaller  craft  to  carry  me 
directly  to  the  Pawnee  settlement.  This 
was  not  easily  accomplished;  but  after  a 
delay  of  twenty-four  hours,  I  succeeded, 
in  company  with  an  educated  Indian  wait- 
ing to  return  to  his  tribe,  in  chartering 
a  boat  to  take  us  to  the  eastern  boundary 
of  the  territory.  There  the  Indian  assur- 
ed me,  we  should  find  canoes  in  which 
we  could  be  conveyed  to  our  destination. 

"  I  wish  I  could  give  a  description  of 
the  scenery,  so  unlike  anything  in  Eng- 
land. For  miles  together  there  was  no 
sign  of  life ;  and  then  we  suddenly  emerg- 
ed into  the  region  of  a  vast  plain  dotted 
as  far  as  eye  could  reach  with  lodges 
where  the  Indians  reside. 

The  view  recalled  some  beautiful  lines 
which  so  aptly  describe  it,  I  will  copy  them : 


WALLINGFOKD'S  LETTEB.  141 

"And  at  my  side  there  lay  a  vale 
Eeplete  with  little   glens,  where   oft, 
The  Indian  wigwam   rose,  and  little   fields 
Of  waving  corn  displayed   their  tasselled  heads; 
A  stream  ran  through  the  vale,  and  on  its  marge 
There   grew  wild  rice,  and  bending  alders  dipped 
Into  the  tide  ;  and  on  the  rising  heights 
The  ever-verdant  pine  laughed  in  the  breeze. 
I  turned  around,  to  gaze  upon  the  scenes 
More  perfectly,  and  there  beheld  a  man 
Tall  and  erect,  with  feathers  on  his  head, 
And  air  and  step  majestic ;  in  his  hands 
Held  he  a  bow  and  arrows,  and  he  would  have  passed 
Intent  on  other  scenes,  but  that  I  spake  to  him." 

"You  can  easily  imagine  the  interest 
with  which  I  regarded  the  slightest  in- 
cidents, as  giving  a  clew  to  my  own 
relatives. 

"  Yes,  I  watched  the  men  lounging 
about  the  doors  of  the  wigwams,  puffing 
the  smoke  of  their  pipes  through  their 
lips;  or  returning  with  their  pouches  of 
game  from  the  hunt,  and  reflected  that  my 


142  LEELINAU. 

grandfather  might  once  have  been  simi- 
larly employed. 

"I  saw  middle-aged  and  youthful  squaws 
dressing  deer-skins,  or  performing  other 
menial  offices,  and  shivered  as  I  recollect- 
ed that  Leeliuau  might  resemble  them. 

"  Engrossed  by  my  own  thoughts  I  scarce- 
ly noticed  my  companion,  who  sat  at  the 
other  end  of  the  boat,  gazing  silently  into 
the  water.  At  length  I  found  my  reflec- 
tions so  bitter  that  I  resolved  to  turn  from 
them.  I  therefore  addressed  the  Indian 
Chief  which  was  not  so  easy  a  performance 
as  one  might  suppose. 

"He  was  past  the  prime  of  life,  grave 
and  taciturn,  dressed  in  the  costume  of  his 
countrymen,  with  earrings  and  rows  of 
beads  falling  across  his  naked  bosom.  On 
his  lower  limbs  he  wore  cloth  leggins,  taste- 
fully ornamented  with  beads  and  small  feath- 
ers. His  feet  were  cased  in  richly  wrought 


WALLINGFORD'S  LETTER.  143 

moccasins  of  elk-skin.  Around  his  body  was 
wrapped  a  blanket  gracefully  folded  across 
his  breast.  But  the  most  singular  part 
of  his  attire  was  the  cap  or  crown  of 
eagle  feathers  which  adorned  his  head,  and 
fell  half  way  down  his  back. 

"  I  knew  my  companion  could  speak 
English;  and  I  therefore  asked: 

"  Shall  we  reach  the  Pawnee  settlement 
to-night?" 

He  fixed  his  full,  black  eye  on  me  for 
an  instant  before  he  deigned  to  reply, 
and  then  answered  briefly : 

" '  When  the  queen  of  night  rises  over 
the  hills  you  will  be  in  the  lodge.' 

" '  Will  it  be  easy  for  me  to  procure 
an  interview  with  the  Chief?  I  have 
business  with  him,  business  of  importance.' 

"  Once  more  he  fixed  upon  mo  a  stern, 
unfaltering  gaze,  but  at  length  he  an- 
swered . 


144  LEELINAU. 

"  '  Tomorrow  at  midday  the  Chief  will 
receive  you.' 

"  I  was  obliged  to  content  myself 
with  this  promise,  for  my  companion  turn- 
ed decidedly  away;  and  I  would  not  again 
intrude  on  his  silence. 

"Before  we  separated,  there  had  grown 
upon  me  a  strange,  unaccountable  yearn- 
ing toward  this  grave,  reticent  man  :  and  I 
could  gladly  have  acknowledged  kindred- 
ship  with  him. 

"  As  we  approached  our  destination,  I 
several  times  found  my  companion's  eyes 
fixed  on  me;  but  not  a  muscle  of  his 
stolid  face  relaxed;  nor  did  he  give  the 
slightest  evidence  of  curiosity. 

"  We  had  scarcely  touched  the  shore 
when  he  sprang  from  the  boat,  and  walked 
rapidly  away.  I  had  supposed  he  intend- 
ed to  accompany  me  to  the  settlement. 
Presently,  however,  an  Indian  launched 


WALLINGFORD'S  LETTER.  145 

his  canoe,  and  beckoned  me  to  follow 
him.  I  tried  to  make  him  understand 
where  I  wanted  to  go,  but  could  not  be 
sure  whether  he  comprehended  me ;  and 
at  length,  fastening  the  canoe  to  a  stake, 
he  ran  off,  as  I  afterward  found,  for  an 
interpreter. 

"He  came  back  accompanied  by  an  aged 
man  dressed  in  the  garb  of  a  priest,  who 
accosted  me  in  my  own  language : 

" '  I  am  on  my  way  to  visit  Letelesha 
the  Pawnee  Chief/  I  explained,  'I  want 
to  hire  an  Indian  to  row  me  there. ' 

"He  clasped  his  hands  and  raised  hia 
eyes  to  heaven : 

"'Letelesha,  the  brave,  has  gone  to  the 
land  of  spirits.' 

"  My  countenance  must  have  expressed 
something  of  my  sorrow  at  this  intelli- 
gence, for  he  instantly  laid  his  hand  on 

my   arm  with  the    tenderness    of   a  father. 

10 


146  LEELINATJ. 

" '  Is  Petalesharoo  now  chief? "  was  my 
next  inquiry. 

" '  Yes,  a  brave,   worthy   chief.' 

"'Where   shall   I   find  him?' 

" '  I  met  him  but  now ;  he  has  been  to 
St.  Louis  on  business  with  the  govern- 
ment.' 

It  instantly  occurred  to  me  that  it  was 
the  Chief  himself  who  had  promised  me  an 
interview  to-morrow  at  midday,  and  I  re- 
peated my  surmise  to  the  priest. 

" '  No   doubt/   was   his  brief  answer. 

" '  Can  you  give  me  any  information  in 
regard  to  Father  Greeny  ? '  I  asked  anx- 
iously. 

"  He  started,  but  then  gazing  keenly  in 
my  face,  inquired: 

"'Do  you  ask  from  motives  of  friend- 
ship? 7 

" 1 1  do.  He  was  the  trusted  friend  of 
my  father  for  many  years.' 


WALLIXGFORD'S  LETTER.  147 

" '  Was  your  father  an  Englishman  ?  ' 

" '  Yes,   and  his   name  was   Wallingford.' 

"  To  my  surprise  the  old  man  caught 
me  in  his  arms. 

" '  Thank  God ! '  he  ejaculated,  his  voice 
shaking,  " '  Thank  God  that  you  have  come 
in  time.  I  am  Father  Greeny.' 

" '  How  is   Leelinau,  my  mother  ? 

" '  If  you  had  tarried  but  a  brief  space, 
she  would  have  been  resting  beside  her 
father.  But  come  with  me. 

"  After  a  few  words  addressed  in  the 
language  of  the  tribe  to  the  Indian  who 
had  been  waiting,  he  dismissed  him,  prom- 
ising to  accompany  me  to  my  mother's 
lodge. 

"  I  had  barely  time  to  slip  some  silver 
into  the  hands  of  the  disappointed  man, 
before  Father  Greeny  called  me  to  follow 
him  up  the  shore  a  short  distance  where 
his  own  canoe  was  waiting  for  him. 


148  LEELDTAU. 

u  The  current  was  against  us,  so  that  it 
took  us  three  hours  to  go  four  miles  ; 
but  I  was  so  agreeably  absorbed  in  what 
the  good  Father  told  me,  that  I  took  no 
note  of  time. 

"  After  relating  the  circumstances  which 
led  to  his  deposition,  which  I  will  tell  you 
at  another  time,  he  gave  me  an  account 
of  my  grandfather,  my  uncle,  the  present 
chief,  the  circumstances  of  my  father's 
visit  to  the  tribe ;  my  mother's  espousal : 
the  rites  of  her  marriage,  her  grief  at 
the  separation  from  her  husband ;  her  de- 
spair when  her  son  was  not  restored  to 
her,  and  other  deeply  affecting  incidents 
of  more  recent  date. 

"  Have  I  exhausted  your  patience,  Edith ; 
or  will  you  allow  me  to  go  on  ? 

"Letelesha,  or  Satalesha,  for  thirty  years 
Chief  of  the  Pawnees,  was  a  brave,  cele- 
brated for  his  deeds  of  prowess,  and  for 


WALLINGFORD'S  LETTEB.  149 

his  stern,  unflinching  integrity.  He  was 
loved  by  his  own  people  and  feared  by 
the  warlike  tribes  which  surrounded  them. 
He  early  opposed  the  introduction  of  ar- 
dent spirits  among  his  people,  a  course 
pursued  by  many  of  the  agents  appointed 
by  government  to  disburse  the  bounty 
pledged  by  treaty  to  the  Indians. 

"  This  virtuous  chief  had  two  children, 
a  son,  Petalesharoo,  and  a  daughter,  Lee- 
linau.  The  son  early  became  distinguished 
on  account  of  his  valor,  and  was  called, 
'Bravest  of  the  Braves.' 

In  the  winter  of  1821,  he  visited  Wash- 
ington, being  one  of  a  deputation  from 
his  nation  to  the  American  Government  on 
business  relating  to  the  tribe.  At  that 
time  he  was  of  elegant  form  and  counte- 
nance, his  lofty  stature  and  erect  bearing 
would  distinguish  him  in  any  company. 
One  incident  related  of  his  valor  attracted 


150  LEELINAU. 

the  admiration   of  those  who  heard  it;  and, 
among   others   of  my   father. 

"  It  had  for  years  been  the  custom,  not 
only  with  his  nation  but  with  the  neigh- 
boring tribes,  to  torture  and  burn  cap- 
tives as  sacrifices  to  the  evening  Star. 
In  an  expedition  undertaken  by  some  of 
his  countrymen  against  the  Iteans,  a 
female  was  captured  and  condemned  to 
be  burned  at  the  stake.  A  vast  crowd 
assembled  upon  the  adjoining  plain  to  wit 
ness  the  scene,  and  to  join  in  the  dance 
usual  on  such  occasions.  This  brave,  unob- 
served, had  stationed  two  fleet  horses  at  a 
small  distance,and  was  standing  among  the 
crowd  as  a  silent  spectator.  All  were  anx- 
iously waiting  to  enjoy  the  spectacle  of  the 
iirst  contact  of  the  flames  with  their  victim, 
when  to  their  astonishment  Petalesharoo 
was  seen  rending  asunder  the  cords 
which  bound  her,  and  with  the  swiftness 


•WALLINGFOED'S  LETTER.  151 

of  thought  bearing  her  in  his  arms  beyond 
the  amazed  multitude,  when  placing  her 
upon  one  horse  and  mounting  himself  upon 
the  other,  he  bore  her  off  safely  to  her 
friends  and  country. 

"  Father  Greeny  told  me  that  such  an 
act  would  have  endangered  the  life  of  a 
common  chief;  but  such  was  Petalesha- 
roo's  sway  in  the  tribe  that  no  one  pre- 
sumed to  censure  the  daring  adventure. 

"  At  that  period  I  am  assured  that  this 
young  brave  was  as  much  a  son  of  na- 
ture, and  had  enjoyed  no  greater  advan- 
tages of  education  or  religious  teaching 
than  the  multitude  whom  he  astounded  by 
his  humane  act. 

"  This  account,  being  circulated  in  Wash- 
ington during  my  father's  visit  to  the  Cap- 
itol, excited  the  liveliest  interest  in  the 
young  chief.  On  my  father's  introduction 
to  him,  he  was  dressed  in  a  manner  sim« 


152  LEELINAU. 

ilar  to  that  in  which  I  met  him.  An 
intense  admiration  for  his  noble  qual- 
ities had  grown  up  in  my  father's  mind; 
and  when  they  met,  the  regard  was  mu- 
tual. A  treaty  of  affection  was  formed 
which  resulted  in  a  promise  from  my 
father  to  visit  the  distinguished  chief  in 
his  forest  home.  But  being  unexpectedly 
called  by  business  in  another  direction, 
the  promise  was  not  redeemed  until  my 
father's  subsequent  visit  to  the  United 
States,  when  he  journeyed  West,  met 
Petalesharoo  at  St.  Louis,  and  returned 
with  him  to  his  tribe,  where  he  met  my 
mother." 


CHAPTER  Xin. 

WALLIXGFORD'S  JOURNAL. 


JCTOBER  25th.  I  left  my  writing 
yesterday  in  a  most  abrupt  manner 
in  consequence  of  a  summons  I 
received  from  Father  Greeny.  I  shall  al- 
ways have  reason  to  thank  God  for  bring- 
ing me  here,  and  for  bringing  me  at  this 
crisis.  The  past  ten  hours  I  have  been 
actor  in  scenes  of  the  most  intense  excite- 
ment. I  have  now  returned  to  Father 
Creeny's  lodge  where  I  wrote  yesterday ;  and 
my  thoughtful  host  has  left  me  to  get 
some  sleep;  but  the  rest  I  most  crave, 
will  come  to  mo  while  addressing  my  fear- 
less, faithful  monitress. 
"Edith,  last  night  when  I  stood  by  the 

(153) 


154  LEELINAU. 

couch  of  my  mother,  and  told  her  of  the 
Saviour's  love  —  of  his  compassion,  even 
for  the  most  guilty,  I  tried  to  recall  your 
words  addressed  to  me.  You  were  by  my 
side.  I  saw  once  more  your  lip  trembling 
with  emotion.  I  looked  in  your  eyes,  dim 
with  unshed  tears.  You  said  once  'I  wish 
I  could  comfort  you  as  you  have  comforted 
me.' 

"  Edith  you  did  comfort  me  last  night. 
Will  you  forgive  me  for  saying, 

'There   links 

Betwixt  us   two  a  tender   sympathy, 
Eternity   will   rivet,    not  unloose.' 

"  But  I  will  endeavor  to  fix  my  mind  on 
my  narrative,  and  give  you  a  connected 
account  of  events  as  they  occurred. 

"The  chief  Letelesha,  or  as  he  is  called 
in  history,  the  knife  chief,  was  not  more 
renowned  for  his  feats  of  strength,  than  was 


WALLINGFORD'S  JOURNAL.  155 

his  daughter  Leelinau  for  her  gentle  vir- 
tues. Her  slender,  supple  form,  her  full, 
beaming,  hazel  eye,  and  her  dark  flowing 
hair  formed  a  picture  most  pleasing  to 
gaze  upon.  In  the  language  of  another, 

'  And  through   her  cheek 

The  blush  would  make  its  way,  and  all  but  speak, 
The  sunborn  blood  suffused  her  neck,  and  threw 
Over  her  clear  brown  skin  a  lucid  hue, 
Like  coral  reddening  through  the  darken'd  wave 
Which  draws  the  diver  to  the  crimson  cave.' 

"  The  hand  of  this  young  princess  had 
been  sought  by  several  young  braves, 
but  to  all  alike  her  father  answered: 

" '  You  ask  me  to  bestow  upon  you  my 
daughter,  the  chief  solace  of  my  age,  my 
choicest  gift  from  the  Master  of  Life. 
Have  you  borne  in  mind  that  Leelinau  is 
descended  from  a  line  of  chieftains  who 
came  from  the  East?  And  what  have  you 
to  boast?  Have  you  proved  your  fortitude 


156  LEELINAT7. 

by  suffering  protracted  pain,  enduring  con- 
tinued hunger,  or  sustaining  great  fatigue  ? 
Is  your  name  known  beyond  the  limits  of 
your  own  tribe  ?  None  but  the  bravest  of 
the  brave  can  ever  hope  to  claim  alliance 
with  Letelesha.'  When  my  father  returned 
to  the  Indian  territory  in  company  with 
his  new  friend,  ho  found  himself  on  a  beau- 
tiful plain  extending  as  far  as  eye  could 
reach,  covered  with  natural  flowers  of  a 
thousand  different  hues  and  fragrance.  Here 
and  there  were  clusters  of  tall,  shady  trees, 
separated  by  streams  of  the  purest  water. 
Under  the  shelter  of  the  trees,  were  the 
lodges  of  the  Indians,  which,  dotting  here 
and  there  the  landscape,  gave  a  pleasing 
variety  to  the  picture. 

"In  the  most  delightful  of  these  groves 
was  the  lodge  of  the  Chief.  When  the  trav- 
ellers entered  it,  the  hour  was  sunset.  Let/ 
elesha  had  returned  home  from  the  chase. 


WALLINGFORD'S  JOURNAL.  157 

"Just  outside  the  lodge,  a  huge  carcass 
of  deer  was  hanging  by  its  antlers,  while 
within  a  savory  repast  was  in  preparation 
by  an  old  squaw. 

"  The  Chief  half  reclined  on  a  mat  of 
bear-skin,  while  close  at  his  side  his  beau- 
tiful daughter  warbled  a  song  of  her  native 
forest ;  meanwhile  with  her  nimble  fingers 
embroidering  a  wampum  belt  lying  across 
her  lap. 

"  It  was  a  lovely,  peaceful  home-scene, 
and  my  father  thoroughly  appreciated  it. 

"  As  a  friend  of  Petalesharoo  the  stran- 
ger was  received  with  honor.  The  friend- 
ship ripened  day  by  day.  While  the  fa- 
ther and  brother  were  following  the  chase,  or 
attending  to  the  business  of  their  tribe, 
my  father  enlivened  the  solitude  of  the 
fair  princess  by  tales  of  his  own  land. 
Like  her  brother  she  could  talk  in  broken 
English ;  but  now  a  lover's  voice  taught 


158  LEELINAU. 

her  to  sing  the  ballads  that  he  loved.  To- 
gether they  wandered  through  the  forest, 
returning  at  night  laden  with  flowers  of 
every  hue. 

''  At  last,  growing  bolder  in  his  love, 
my  father  poured  into  the  maiden's  ear  the 
story  which  has  never  grown  old,  since 
Adam  told  it  to  Eve  in  Paradise. 

"  Nor  did  the  princess  say  him  nay.  A 
new  life  had  begun  for  her.  Never  before 
had  her  heart  beat  so  tumultuously.  Never 
before  had  her  step  been  so  elastic,  nor 
her  eye  so  bright. 

"  Letelesha  saw  and  sighed.  He  too 
loved  the  white  chief  who  had  come  from 
far  to  woo  the  fairest  of  the  fair ;  but  his 
heart  whispered  that  the  stranger  would 
ere  long  grow  weary  of  Indian  life,  and 
/earn  after  his  own  kindred.  What  would 
become  of  Leelinau  then? 

"When  he   repeated   these  words  to    his 


WALLIXGFORD'S  JOURNAL.  159 

daughter,  her  head  drooped  on  her  breast, 
and  she  wept.  It  was  as  if  she  had  said, 
'  I  plead  with  my  tears.'  Her  brother  also 
plead  for  his  friend.  Between  them  they 
prevailed  over  the  better  judgment  of  the 
Chief;  and  he  consented  that  his  daughter 
should  be  the  bride  of  the  pale-face. 

"  For  two  moons  only  were  the  rites 
which  joined  them  delayed.  Father  Greeny, 
at  that  time  a  zealous  Romanist,  had  com- 
menced his  labors  among  the  Pawnees,  but 
was  now  absent.  My  father,  though  a  prot- 
estant,  gladly  availed  himself  of  priestly 
rites  to  give  additional  sanctity  to  the 
simple  ceremony  which  was  the  usage  of 
the  tribe,  and  therefore  waited  his  return. 

"  Nor  was  the  time  too  short  ibr  the 
Englishman  to  prove  to  the  Chief  and  his 
son  that  he  was  not  behind  them  in  pow- 
ers of  strength  or  endurance.  He  had 
been  trained  to  wonderful  feats  in  the 


160  LEELINAU. 

schools  of  his  native  country,  while  his 
skill  in  horsemanship  would  almost  equal 
that  of  those  who  make  it  a  profession. 

"Leaving  his  betrothed  waving  her 
farewell  from  the  door  of  the  lodge,  he 
rode  forth  in  company  with  the  bravest 
warriors  to  the  hunt ;  where  even  in  com- 
pany with  the  Bravest  of  the  Brave,  he 
earned  laurels. 

"Nor  when  the  wedding  day  arrived 
was  the  trousseau  wanting.  There  was 
then  but  little  communication  with  the 
States ;  but  a  heavy  purse  and  a  firm  re- 
solve can  work  wonders.  Cloth  of  the 
finest  texture,  ornaments  of  gold  and 
coral  adorned  the  graceful  limbs  of  Lee- 
linau,  making  her  the  admiration  of  the 
whole  tribe. 

"  At  the  close  of  a  happy  year,  during 
which  my  mother  made  rapid  advances 
toward  civilization,  and  in  which  my 


WALLINGFORD'S  JOURNAL.  161 

father's  efforts  were  added  to  those  of 
the  priest  for  the  welfare  of  the  tribe, 
a  new  tie  united  my  parents.  From  the 
raven  blackness  of  my  hair  and  eyes, 
Leelinau,  according  to  the  custom  of  the 
nation,  called  me  Blackbird,  though  my 
father,  embracing  the  opportunity  presented 
by  Father  Creeny's  first  visit  after  my 
birth,  had  requested  him  to  call  me  by  the 
name  of  my  uncle,  Brooks  Dudley  Walling- 
ford.  Through  the  whole  tribe  my  father 
went  by  the  name  of  '  Flying  leap,'  in  con- 
sequence of  a  wonderful  feat  of  horseman- 
ship. 

"  There  was  one  event  during  my  infancy 
which  may  perhaps  interest  you  in  con- 
nection with  the  Bravest  of  the  Brave. 

"  One  of  the  Pawnee  warriors  having 
been  absent  on  a  war  expedition,  brought 
back  with  him  a  Spanish  boy  whom  he 
had  captured  from  a  neighboring  tribe. 


162  LEELINAU. 

The  warrior  was  resolved  to  sacrifice  him 
to  Venus,  the  great  star  whom  he  wished 
to  propitiate ;  and  the  time  was  appointed. 

"  Letelesha  had  long  wished  to  put  an 
end  to  this  ancient  custom  of  his  tribe, 
and  now  consulted  Petalesharoo,  and  Flying- 
leap  upon  the  course  to  be  pursued.  The 
Brave  said : 

" '  I  will  rescue  the  boy  as  a  warrior 
should,  by  force.' 

"  His  father,  unwilling  that  he  should 
thus  expose  his  life,  made  great  exertions 
to  raise  a  sufficient  quantity  of  merchandise 
for  the  purchase  of  the  captive. 

"All  who  were  able,  at  the  desire  of 
the  Chief,  contributed;  and  a  pile  was 
made  of  the  goods  before  Letelesha's  lodge, 
who  then  summoned  the  warrior  before 
him.  When  he  had  arrived  the  Chief  com- 
manded him  to  take  the  merchandise  and 
deliver  up  the  boy.  The  warrior  refused. 


WALLINGFORD'S  JOURNAL.  163 

Letelesha  then  waved  his  war-club  in  the 
air,  bade  the  warrior  obey  or  prepare  foi 
instant  death. 

" '  Strike,'  cried  Petalesharoo,  '  I  will  meet 
the  vengeance  of  his  friends.' 

"  But  the  prudent  and  excellent  Leteles- 
ha resolved  to  use  one  more  endeavor,  be- 
fore committing  such  a  deed.  He  there- 
fore increased  the  amount  of  property, 
which  had  the  desired  effect.  The  boy 
was  surrendered ;  and  the  valuable  collec- 
tion of  goods  sacrificed  to  Venus  in  his 
stead. 

"Petalesharoo,  then  called  together  the 
chiefs,  when  Flying-leap,  holding  up  a  sil- 
ver medal  before  them,  called  them  to 
listen : 

"  '  Brethren,'  he  began, '  this  day  we  have 
reason  to  be  proud  of  our  Prince,  the 
Bravest  of  the  Brave.  This  day  he  has 
redeemed  his  pledge  which  he  gave  to 


164  LEELINAU. 

our  brothers  and  sisters  in  Washington. 
So  highly  was  he  there  esteemed  for  his 
bravery,  anJ  for  the  tenderness  of  his 
heart,  that  he  was  presented  by  the  la- 
dies with  this  elegant  silver  medal,  which 
was  given  with  this  address : 

tt  i  u  Brother,  accept  this  token  of  our 
esteem;  always  wear  it  for  our  sakes; 
and  when  again  you  have  the  power  to 
save  a  poor  captive  from  death  and  tor- 
ture, think  of  this  and  of  us,  and  fly  to 
her  relief  and  rescue." 

" '  Chiefs  and  warriors,  listen  to  Petale- 
sharoo's  reply.'  The  medal  hung  about 
his  neck;  he  seized  it  in  his  hands: 

"'This,'  he  said,  'will  give  me  more 
ease  than  I  ever  had;  and  I  will  listen 
more  than  I  Qver  did  to  white  men.  I 
am  glad  that  my  brothers  and  sisters  ap- 
prove the  act  I  have  done.  I  did  it  in 
ignorance  of  the  God  of  the  pale-face; 


WALLINGFORD'S  JOURNAL.  165 

but  I  now  know  what  I  have  done.  By 
giving  me  this  medal  I  know  it.  I  will 
learn  of  the  white  man's  God  to  deliver 
captives  from  death.' 

"  This  address  of  my  father's  produced 
a  great  effect  upon  the  warriors,  who 
crowded  around  their  young  chief,  stand- 
ing modestly  apart  from  the  group,  and 
eagerly  expressed  their  pleasure. 

"At  that  time  the  intercourse  between 
white  traders  and  the  Indians  had  barely 
commenced.  Occasionally  a  daring  or  a  mis- 
sionary spirit  led  one,  as  it  did  Father 
Greeny,  to  brave  the  terrors  of  the  scalp- 
ing knife ;  and  intrude  upon  them  in  their 
wigwams.  But  for  a  long  time  the  influ- 
ence of  Father  Greeny  was  insufficient  to 
prevent  torture  to  the  captive.  The  pooi 
Indians  all  believed  that  the  success  of 
their  enterprises  depended  on  their  faith 
ful  performance  of  their  rites  and  sacrifices." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  HAPPY  REUNION. 

CTOBER  28th.  I  have  been  un- 
able until  now,  to  resume  my  jour- 
nal, and  at  this  time  can  only  add 
a  few  pages,  as  I  have  an  opportunity  to 
send  to  St.  Louis,  by  one  of  the  Paw- 
nees, who  will  post  my  package  there.  I 
hope  it  will  reach  you  in  safety,  and  that 
its  minute  contents  will  not  weary  you. 

"  I  need  not  remind  you  of  your  prom- 
ise to  tell  me  of  whatever  concerns  you. 
But  to  return  to  my  narrative: 

"Two,  three  years  passed  after  my  birth, 
and  my  father  showed  no  symptoms  of 
wishing  to  return  to  civilized  life.  Indeed, 
with  his  Leelinau,  or  My  dear  Life,  as  he 


THE   HAPPY  REUNION.  167 

often  called  my  mother,  and  the  pranks  of 
his  pappoose,  —  with  the  excitement  of  the 
hunt,  and  the  success  of  his  trade  in  furs 
with  the  States,  he  had  no  time  for 
ennui. 

"At  first  Letelesha  watched  his  daugh- 
ter's husband  with  gloomy  forebodings ;  but 
as  he  saw  Flying-leap  happy  in  teaching 
his  wife  to  enhance  the  comforts  of  home, 
a  sense  of  security  gradually  stole  over 
him :  and  when  three  times  twelve  moons 
had  waxed  and  waned,  he  forgot  that  the 
pale-faced  brave  had  other  ties  across  the 
sea. 

"During  these  years  the  lodge  under 
the  tall  trees  was  beautified  by  clinging 
vines  which  climbed  up  and  threw  their 
luxuriant  tendrils  lovingly  over  the  sides. 
The  grounds  in  the  vicinity  had  been  made 
to  resemble  an  English  garden.  Parterres 
of  flowers  transplanted  from  the  wilderness 


1 68  LEELINAU. 

blossomed  with  increased  beauty.  Beyond 
was  an  enclosure  where  vegetables  in 
abundance  gave  token  of  the  richness  and 
fertility  of  the  soil,  and  which  proved  an 
additional  charm  to  the  pleasures  of  the 
table.  Fish,  prairie  fowls,  many  varieties 
of  game,  bear  meat,  buffalo  meat,  and  ven- 
ison, constituted  the  fare,  and  were  dain- 
» 
ties  fit  for  a  crowned  head. 

"  Within  the  lodge  the  softest  mats  of 
wolf,  bear  and  buffalo  skins,  covered  the 
well-trodden  earthen  floor,  while  cages  of 
birds  of  the  richest  plumage  hung  around. 
Heavy  curtains  separated  the  sleeping 
apartments  from  the  common  room.  There 
was  a  motley  array  of  furniture.  In  one 
corner  was  a  small  upright  parlor  organ 
standing  opposite  an  array  of  kettles,  wood- 
en spoons  and  other  cooking  utensils.  Next 
to  the  organ  the  large  case  in  which 
Flying-leap  kept  his  arrows  and  gun. 


THE    HAPPY    REUNION.  169 

Over  this  the  branching  horns  of  a  huge 
deer.  Next  a  large  lounging  chair,  and 
then  again  a  rude  case  well  filled  with 
books,  prominent  among  them  the  Bible 
which  my  father  was  beginning  to  consult 
as  a  guide  from  earth  to  heaven. 

"Just  as  I  had  reached  my  third  sum- 
mer, the  summons  for  my  father  brought 
dismay  to  many  hearts.  It  was  an  imper- 
ative summons  not  to  be  tampered  with. 
There  was  a  tiny  pappoose  now  lashed  to  its 
cradle  according  to  Indian  usage  and 
standing  in  the  corner  of  the  wigwam. 

"  Since  this  may  strike  you  as  cruel,  I 
will  explain  that  the  cradle  is  made  of 
a  straight  piece  of  wood,  generally  about 
twenty  inches  long  and  twelve  wide. 
Near  the  top  a  piece  of  supple  wood  is 
bent  in  the  form  of  a  bow,  which  prevents 
any  injury  to  the  infant  should  the  cradle 
be  accidentally  upset.  The  bow  also  serves 


170  LEELINAU. 

as  a   support  to    attach    tbo  toys  hung  in 

front   of    the    child's    eyes    for    its  amuse- 
ment. 

"  Perhaps     you     have     read    the  pretty 

lines   in  which    reference    is    made  to   the 

Indian   cradle.     The    mother    chants  to  her 
sick  child: 

"  '  Baby  dear, 

Leave  me   not  —  ah,  leave  me   not; 
I  have  nursed  with   love   sincere, 
Nursed  thee   in    thy  forest  cot  — 
Tied  thee   in   thy  cradle   trim 
Kind   adjusting  every   limb; 
With   the   fairest  beads   and   bands 
Deck'd  thy   cradle  with   my   hands; 
And  with   sweetest   corn   panade, 
From  my   little   kettle   fed, 
Leave  me   not  —  ah,   leave  me  not.' 

"In  place  of  the  dandling,  usual  in 
England,  the  Indian  mother  lays  her  infant 
on  the  board  upon  which  a  blanket  has 


THE    HAPPY    REUNION.  171 

been  folded,  and  lashes  it  firmly  to  the 
support,  which  secures  it  so  well  that 
the  cradle  can  be  set  up  on  end  against 
the  side  of  the  lodge  and  in  this  position 
the  pappoose  will  sleep  for  hours.  When 
taken  from  the  cradle  it  will  often  cry 
to  be  put  back,  folding  its  tiny  arms  by 
its  sides  for  the  purpose.  Probably  in 
this  way  the  Indian  squaw  secures  for 
her  child  the  straight  back  and  erect 
bearing  for  which  the  Aborigines  of  Amer- 
ica are  noted. 

"My  little  sister  lona  was  five  months 
old  when  the  messenger  came  to  announce 
to  my  father  the  death  of  my  grand- 
father and  of  my  uncle  Brooks  Walling- 
ford;  sudden  death  from  the  overturning 
of  a  carriage. 

"  When  Leelinau  was  made  to  compre- 
hend the  necessity  of  an  immediate  deci- 
sion 01  my  father's  question,  'Will  you 


172  LEELIXATT. 

go  with  me  to  England,  or  remain  here 
till  my  return?"  her  grief  rendered  her 
almost  frantic.  She  had  learned  enough 
during  her  acquaintance  with  him  to  un- 
derstand that  her  nomadic  life  among 
savages  had  sadly  unfitted  her  for  the 
sphere  to  which  she  would  be  introduced 
as  the  wife  of  a  wealthy  Englishman. 
She  was  now  able  to  read,  and  began  to 
blush  at  her  own  ignorance. 

" '  No,  no/  she  shrieked,  wringing  her 
hands.  "  You  will  not  love  me  there.  You 
will  compare  me  with  the  pale-faces,  and 
mourn  that  you  ever  sought  a  rude,  un- 
taught savage.' 

"  No  arguments  that  my  father  could  use 
had  weight  against  these  fears  which  had 
obtained  complete  mastery  over  her.  Her 
brother  tried  to  soothe  her  by  repeating 
Flying-leap's  promise  of  return,  while  her 
father  stood  by  in  dignified  silence. 


THE    HAPPY    KEUNION.  173 

"But.  not  to  delay  on  this  painful 
scene.  My  father  made  hurried  arrange- 
ments for  the  comfort  of  Leelinau  and 
her  infant  daughter,  and  left  the  Pawnees 
taking  me  aAvay  with  him. 

"  Years  passed ;  my  sister  lay  sleeping 
beneath  the  sod.  My  father's  servant,  old 
Roger,  had  been  on  his  fruitless  errand 
to  the  lodge,  and  at  last  ray  father  him- 
self came  to  urge  Leelinau  and  her 
brother  to  accompany  him  to  England. 
He  promised  her  the  tenderest  care ;  and 
to  Petalesharoo  the  means  of  prosecuting 
an  education  in  any  college  he  might 
choose ;  but  she  would  not  consent,  and  after 
a  residence  with  the  tribe  of  nearly  six 
months,  he  once  more  left  her,  promising 
that  at  some  future  time  I  should  visit 
her. 

"  From  the  moment  she  heard  of  his 
death  on  board  the  steamer,  no  smile 


174  LEELDUT7. 

was  seen  in  the  once  happy  lodgo  of 
Leelinau.  She  pined  day  and  night.  Tears, 
sighs  and  lamentations  were  heard  con- 
tinually. In  vain  Letelesha  and  Petalesh- 
aroo  employed  persuasion  and  reproof; 
both  were  alike  unheeded.  She  reproach- 
ed herself  continually  with  being  the 
cause  of  her  husband's  death.  She  would 
seek  a  retired  spot  in  the  forest  or  by 
the  side  of  a  crystal  stream;  and  there 
under  a  shady  tree  she  would  sit  and 
sing  her  mournful  laments  for  hours  to- 
gether. 

"  At  last  time  assuaged  the  poignancy 
of  her  grief;  and  she  began  to  look  for- 
ward with  delight  to  reunion  with  her 
husband  in  the  Paradise  of  the  blest; 
where,  according  to  the  belief  of  the  Paw- 
nees, the  spirits  of  friends  will  be  re- 
united and  tread  forever  over  fields  of 
flowery  enjoyment,  free  from  care  or  sorrow. 


THE    HAPPY    REUNION.  175 

"  In  this  state  of  mind  she  <;ontin  jed 
until  the  death  of  Letelesha,  when  the 
more  spiritual  labors  of  Father  Greeny  led 
her  to  reflect  on  the  instructions  of  my 
father,  Avho  during  his  last  visit  was  un- 
ceasing in  his  efforts  for  her  conversion. 

"  It  was  strange  how  entirely  these 
had  faded  from  her  mind.  Now  she 
listened  for  hours  to  the  teachings  of  the 
Bible,  which  produced  a  deep  conviction 
of  her  guilt  as  a  sinner  before  God,  but 
unhappily  did  not  lead  her  to  Christ  —  as 
the  only  satisfaction  for  the  offender. 

"  Here  I  must  close  my  sheet,  hoping  for 
a  speedy  answer  to  my  long  epistle. 

BROOKS  D.  WALLINGFORD." 

I  must  now  take  up  the  narrative.  On 
reaching  the  settlement,  with  his  guest, 
Father  Greeny  accompanied  the  traveller 
to  his  own  wigwam,  and  after  giving  him 


176  LEELINAU. 

such  refreshments  as  he  had  at  hand,  left 
him  while  he  went  to  Leelinau's  lodge  to 
consult  Petalesharoo  as  to  the  best  manner 
of  preparing  the  mother  to  receive  her  long 
lost  child.  He  found  to  his  surprise  that 
the  Chief  had  recognized  his  nephew,  and 
was  already  at  his  sister's  couch,  momen- 
tarily fearing  interruption  from  young 
W  llingford.  He  gladly  welcomed  the  priest 
and  retiring  to  the  farther  end  of  the 
lodge,  stood  silently  awaiting  the  result. 

For  months  Leelinau  had  been  failing  in 
strength.  Ever  since  the  death  of  her 
husband  she  had  reproached  herself  for 
not  consenting  to  his  wishes  and  accom- 
panying him.  Her  love,  she  felt  sure, 
would  have  averted  the  calamity  which 
overtook  him  on  board  the  ship.  At  times, 
too,  his  earnest  words  of  entreaty  that 
she  would  embrace  his  Saviour,  flashed 
through  her  with  overwhelming  force. 


THE    HAPPY    REUNION.  177 

Her  mind  was  like  a  troubled  sea  which 
cannot  rest.  She  acknowledged  to  her- 
self, though  she  would  to  no  other,  that 
her  steps  were  hastening  her  enfeebled 
body  to  the  grave,  and  ever  this  ques- 
tion was  before  her  — 

"  Will  my  spirit  join  my  husband  and 
my  babe  lona  in  the  land  of  the  blest; 
or  shall  I  be  condemned  to  live  solitary, 
beholding  their  happiness  afar  off,  never 
able  to  approach  them?  " 

Day  after  day  Father  Greeny  had  sought 
to  shed  light  on  the  darkened  mind;  but 
reticent  and  calm  outwardly,  he  could  not 
guess  the  tortures  of  her  soul,  and  knew 
not  how  to  apply  the  remedy.  These  tor- 
tures had  at  length  wrought  such  a  change 
in  the  appearance  of  Leelinau  that  it  was 
evident  to  all  she  had  but  a  few  weeks, 
perhaps  only  days,  more  to  live. 

It  was  mainly  to   procure  some  medicine 

12 


178  LEELINAU. 

for  his  sister  that  Petalesharoo  had  been 
to  St.  Louis,  and  now  his  very  soul  was 
moved  within  him  as  he  reflected  upon 
the  possible  effect  of  the  overwhelming  joy 
in  store  for  her. 

Hitherto  Father  Greeny  had  advised  that 
no  allusion  to  her  past  happiness  with 
Flying-leap  should  be  made  in  her  pres- 
ence ;  but  now,  entering  with  a  smile  on 
his  aged  face,  he  sat  down  on  the  pile  of 
mats  the  Chief  had  just  vacated. 

"  Come,"  he  exclaimed,  "  you  must  smile 
with  me.  I  have  had  a  dream,  a  hap- 
py dream.  Who  do  you  think  I  saw  in 
it?" 

"  I  cannot  imagine.  It  may  be  you  saw 
niy  father." 

"  Xo,   it   was   Blackbird." 

She  started  up  with  a  cry  of  pain. 
"Tell  me,"  she  exclaimed,  "how  did  he 
look?  Was  he  a  child  still?" 


THE    HAPPY    REUNION.  179 

"You  nmst  control  yourself  like  the 
daughter  of  a  great  Chief,  or  I  can  tell 
you  nothing." 

"  That  is  true,  Leelinau.  Be  calm,  for  I 
too  have  had  a  dream ;  and  I  think  it 
portends  good,"  added  the  Chief. 

The   poor  mother   clasped    her  hands. 

"  I   am   waiting,"    she    said,  hoarsely. 

"  No ;  but  you  must  tell  me  how  Black- 
bird looked ;  it  is  so  many  years  since  he 
went  away.  Tell  me,  that  I  may  be  sure 
I  was  not  mistaken." 

Leelinau's  eyes  flashed,  but  presently 
softened,  as  she  commenced :  "  Straight  as 
a  pine  in  its  native  forest,  was  my  first- 
born. Black  and  shining  like  a  raven's 
wing  was  his  hair.  Keen  as  a  vulture's 
was  his  eye  — "  She  fell  back  with  a 
heart-rending  shriek. 

"  Oh,  why,  why  did  I  ever  consent 
that  he  should  leave  me  ?  " 


180  LEELINATT. 

"  Hush  !  hush !  Leelinau,  sister  of  the 
Brave.  He  will  return.  Through  these 
great  forests  he  will  search  till  he  comes 
to  the  lodge  of  his  mother." 

"  How  know  you  this  ?  "  Months  of  sup- 
pressed agony  were  concentrated  in  the 
shriek  which  followed  this  question. 

"  Be  quiet,  Leelinau,"  said  her  brother, 
"and  I  will  bring  Blackbird  to  your  couch, 
not  a  child,  but  a  man,  a  warrior,  fit  to 
be  the  son  of  Letelesha's  daughter ;  one 
to  make  a  mother's  heart  swell  with  pride." 

"  Where  is  he  ?  I  will  go  and  seek 
him.  Why  did  his  footstep  tarry  until  he 
reached  his  mother's  lodge?  He  must  be 
weary.  Let  me  arise  and  prepare  him 
food.  Oh,  my  son,  my  son ! " 

Here  the  mother's  excitement  became  so 
intense  that  it  was  with  difficulty  her  at- 
tendants could  prevent  her  from  rushing 
out  into  the  forest  in  search  of  her  boy. 


THE  HAPPY  REUNION.  181 

"  Stay  here,"  said  Father  Greeny,  "  I  will 
be  back  presently." 

In  five  minutes  Blackbird  stood  panting 
before  the  skin  door  which  alone  separated 
him  from  his  mother.  Throwing  aside  his 
hat,  he  entered  and  stood  before  her;  then 
with  a  low  cry,  as  he  thought  of  all  she 
had  suffered  from  the  long  separation,  he 
threw  himself  on  his  knees  by  her  couch 
and  buried  his  face  in  her  bosom. 

"  Mother  !  Leelinau  !  My  dear  Life  !  have 
you  no  words  of  welcome  for  your  boy  ? " 
he  exclaimed  passionately. 

The  princess  raised  her  eyes  to  heaven, 
murmuring  inarticulate  words,  then  sud- 
denly clasping  his  head,  she  held  it  where 
her  eyes  could  feast  on  the  sight. 

"  It  is,  it  is  my  son  !  my  beloved  for 
whom  my  soul  yearned.  Am  I  in  the 
spirit  land?  Has  the  Great  Father  revoked 
my  doom?  May  I  talk  with  my  son?" 


182  LEELINAU. 

"  I  am  here  in  the  flesh,  mother.  Put 
your  hand  in  mine ;  feel  the  quick  throbs 
of  my  heart.  It  beats  high  with  love  to 
Leelinau." 

She  caught  him  to  her  breast  and  rained 
showers  of  kisses  on  his  cheeks,  his  brow, 
his  lips. 

"  Now  I  know  it  is  not  a  dream  ; "  and 
she  lay  quietly  back  on  the  couch,  keep- 
ing her  eyes  fixed  upon  his. 

The  Chief  now  came  forward  to  welcome 
the  visitor,  and  deeply  as  young  Walling- 
ford's  feelings  were  moved  at  meeting  his 
mother,  he  could  not  but  admire  the  ease, 
self-possession  and  grace  of  the  man  as 
he  stood  erect,  the  lord  of  the  forest. 

"You  are  welcome  as  the  breath  of 
spring,  welcome  as  the  noise  of  the  water- 
fall to  the  thirsty  hunter,  welcome  as  the 
sight  of  the  lodge-fires  after  a  wearisome 
march.  You  are  welcome." 


THE   HAPPY   REUNION.  183 

"  Have  I  kept  my  promise  ? "  k.quired 
Father  Greeny,  bending  over  the  couch, 
with  an  arch  glance. 

"  You  have  kept  it.  My  son,  my  Black- 
biid,  my  warrior,  my  second  Letelesha, 
has  returned  ;  and  we  shall  never  part 
more  until  the  Master  of  Life  calls  me  to 
the  land  of  spirits." 

She  fixed  her  eyes  keenly  upon  her  son, 
as  she  said  this,  and  he  answered  solemnly: 

"  We   will   never  part." 

With  a  quick  gasp  she  released  his 
hand  while  a  gush  of  tears  came  to  her 
relief.  But  with  a  self-control  for  which 
he  was  unprepared,  but  which  accorded 
well  with  her  character,  she  soon  became 
calm,  and  folding  her  hands  on  her  breast, 
said  softly : 

"I  am   content." 


CHAPTER  XV. 
THE  MOTHER'S  LODGE. 

N  attendant  brought  in  for  the  vis- 
itor dried  venison,  cakes  made  of 
maize,  parched  corn,  and  a  pipe, 
formerly  used  by  his  grandfather. 

Wallingford  partook  sparingly  of  the  food, 
urging  that  he  had  already  eaten,  then 
holding  the  pipe  reverently  in  his  hands, 
he  touched  the  mouth-piece  to  his  lips, 
and  laid  it  aside. 

"  It  is  sacred,  sacred  to  Letelesha,"  he 
said,  solemnly. 

He  could  scarcely  have  done  anything 
more  pleasing  to  his  mother.  She  gazed 
lovingly  in  his  face,  as  if  she  could  never 
weary  of  the  sight,  whispering  to  herself: 

(184) 


THE  MOTHER'S  LODGE.  185 

"lie  is  true.  He  feels  no  shame  on  ac- 
count of  the  red  blood  flowing  in  his  veins. 
He  is  true  to  Letelesha,  and  to  his 
mother." 

It  was  now  midnight ;  but  Leelinau  would 
not  part  from  her  newly  recovered  treas- 
ure. She  caused  a  pile  of  mats  to  be 
laid  at  the  farther  corner  of  the  lodge 
where  she  could  keep  him  in  sight,  and 
herself  feigning  sleep,  watched  him  as,  ex- 
hausted with  fatigue  and  excitement,  he 
soon  fell  into  a  profound  slumber. 

Not  once  during  the  night  did  the 
watcher  close  her  eyes,  but  when  the 
morning  dawned  and  she  had  partaken 
with  him  of  the  feast  Petalesharoo  had 
prepared  for  a  welcome,  she  consented  to 
be  left  alone  and  seek  the  rest  she  so 
much  needed. 

"Sleep,  Leelinau,"  entreated  Wallingford, 
bending  over  her,  "  and  I  will  entreat 


186  LEELINAU. 

our  heavenly  Father  to  give  strength  to 
your  frame.  I  have  much  to  tell  you  of 
myself  and  much  to  learn  concerning  you 
and  my  sister  lona." 

The  young  man  hurried  away  to  Father 
Creeny's  lodge  and  passed  an  hour  or  two 
in  writing  to  Edith. 

From  this  time  Leelinau's  strength  grad- 
ually returned.  When  the  weather  was  mild 
she  went  out,  always  accompanied  by  her 
son,  and  led  him  to  her  favorite  haunts 
in  the  forest.  For  hours  during  the  balmy 
Indian  summer  they  sat  on  a  mound,  near 
the  grave  of  lona,  while  the  mother  dwelt 
upon  her  childish  beauty  and  grace,  which 
alas !  was  so  soon  buried  from  sight. 

It  was  here  too,  near  the  repose  of  the 
early  dead,  that  Wallingford  first  told  his 
mother  of  the  hopes  he  had  begun  to 
cherish  of  happiness  beyond  the  grave. 
Not,  indeed,  until  this  hour,  had  he  de- 


THE  MOTHER'S  LODGE.  187 

layed  to  awaken  in  her  a  desire  foi  some 
token  of  acceptance  with  God.  He  had  at 
once  urged  her  to  submit  herself  to  the 
Saviour,  and  she  with  the  artlessness  and 
abandon  of  a  child,  had  confided  to  him 
all  the  trials  and  conflicts  she  had  en- 
dured while  trying  to  approach  the  Al- 
mighty Ruler  of  heaven  and  earth. 

"  But  I  never   come  any   nearer,"  she  ex- 
claimed in   despair,  and  with  her  eyes   up- 
turned.    "  Earth  is   not  farther  from  Heaven 
than  the  Great  Spirit  is  from  my  poor  trem- 
bling heart.      I   cannot  find   him.      I    must 
walk  in   darkness   forever.     When  my   eyes 
are    shut  to  the  light  of  day,   I  shall  never 
see   you   more,  my   son.     I   shall  never  see 
the  young  brave,  Flying-leap,  who  wandered 
over   seas  and  through  forests   to  find    rest 
in  my   arms.     I    have    looked    my    last    on 
the    sweet    babe   who    nestled    against    my 
bosom.     The    Master    of    Life  is    a    being 


188  LEELIXAU. 

brighter  than  the  sun;  'more  glorious  than 
the  moon  with  her  train  of  stars ;  but  I 
shall  not  be  permitted  to  look  upon  him." 

"  Mother  !  mother !  why  will  you  despair, 
when  the  Bible,  God's  oAvn  book,  is  so  full 
of  precious  promises?  Oh,  mother !  I  am 
but  a  babe  in  knowledge ;  but  I  have 
found  the  Saviour.  Will  you  not  trust 
this  gracious  Friend  ?  Our  father  in  heaven 
says  to  those  who  trust  him :  *  As  far  as 
the  east  is  from  the  west,  so  far  hath  he 
removed  our  transgressions  from  us.'  Will 
you  not  trust  me  to  show  you  the  way 
to  him?" 

"  I  will  trust  you,"  laying  her  hand  in 
his. 

"  Do  you  remember,  Leelinau,  the  story 
of  the  Spanish  boy  who  was  rescued  from 
the  flames  by  my  grandfather  and  hia 
sons  ?  " 

"I  remember." 


THE  MOTHER'S  LODGE.  189 

"He  was  a  captive,  and  the  warrior 
demanded  a  heavy  ransom.  It  was  right, 
for  life  is  worth  more  than  gold.  The 
ransom  was  paid,  and  the  captive  was  free. 
Ought  he  not  to  love  those  braves  who 
saved  his  life?  Ought  he  not  to  be  will- 
ing to  devote  his  whole  strength  to  their 
service  ?  " 

"  He  was  willing ;  he  begged  to  do  so ; 
but  Letelesha  sent  him  back  to  his  friends." 

"  We  are  all  captives,  mother.  Captives 
to  sin.  Christ  the  Saviour  came  to  ran- 
som us.  He  would  have  given  gold  and 
silver  and  costly  garments ;  but  these  were 
not  enough.  Do  you  know  what  he  gave? 
Have  you  not  heard  that  the  Son  of  God 
gave  his  own  life  to  ransom  ours  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  heard.  Flying-leap  frequent- 
ly read  to  mo  from  his  book :  but  my 
heart  does  not  understand;  I  feel  it  not. 
I  despair.  I  tell  no  one  but  my  son.  I 


190  LEELINAU. 

ain  soon  going  to  the  land  of  the  Great 
Spirit.  It  is  a  long  journey.  I  have  no 
guide." 

"Dear  mother,  listen  to  the  words  of 
your  child.  Think  of  Blackbird,  the  son  of 
Mighty  chiefs.  Would  he  deceive  his 
mother  ?  " 

"  The  voice  of  Blackbird  is  music  to  my 
ears.  It  is  like  the  voice  of  the  nightin- 
gale. It  is  like  the  cooing  of  the  dove. 
It  is  sweet  as  gurgling  waters.  I  will 
listen." 

"  Let  me  read  to  you  the  words  of  the 
Great  Spirit.  It  is  addressed  to  you. 
Our  Father's  eye  watches  us  at  this  mo- 
ment. He  sees  your  heart  torn  with  sad 
forebodings.  He  longs  to  comfort  you. 
He  sends  his  good  spirit  to  whisper  words 
of  peace.  Listen : 

"'Ho,  every  one  that  thirsteth,  come 
ye  to  the  waters,  and  he  that  hath  no 


THE  MOTHER'S  LODGE.  191 

money;  come  ye,  buy  and  eat;  yea,  come, 
buy  wine  and  milk  without  money  and 
without  price.' " 

Leelinau  eagerly  drank  in  the  words, 
but  when  he  stopped,  her  head  sank  on 
her  breast. 

"  This  invitation  is  to  all,"  he  went  on. 
"  Christ's  love  for  sinners  has  made  it  free. 
Now  hear  what  Christ  says  to  you  and 
to  me: 

" '  Whosoever  drinketh  of  the  water  that 
I  shall  give  him,  shall  never  thirst ;  but 
the  water  that  I  shall  give  him,  shall  be 
in  him  a  well  of  water  springing  up  into 
everlasting  life.'  " 

Wallingford  was  aware  that  this  sym- 
bolic language,  so  suited  to  the  Indian 
habits  of  thought,  would  touch  a  chord  in 
her  heart.  He  was  not  surprised  therefore 
to  see  her  eye  kindle  with  interest;  but 
no  sooner  did  she  observe  his  cheeks  flush 


192  LEELINAU. 

with  hope,  than  she  feigned  an  indifference 
she  was  far  from  feeling. 

"  Will  you  not  drink  of  this  water,  my 
mother?"  he  asked  in  tones  of  affection. 

"I  cannot   answer." 

"'I  am  the  bread  of  life,'"  he  repeated. 
" '  He  that  cometh  to  me  shall  never  hun- 
ger; and  he  that  believeth  on  me  shall 
never  thirst.' " 

For  a  few  moments  the  poor  woman  was 
so  rilled  with  a  -  sense  of  her  own  sinful- 
ness  that  her  cries  were  incessant. 

Her  keen  distress  so  affected  her  son 
that  he  pressed  upon  her  the  only 
remedy,  submission  to  God,  repeating 
with  great  emphasis  the  word :  " '  For 
the  Son  of  man  is  come  to  seek  and  to 
save  that  which  was  lost.' " 

After  a  time  Leelinau  became  more 
calm,  and  rising  said:  "Let  us  return  to 
the  Lodge." 


THE  MOTHER'S  LODGE.  193 

Several  days  passed  and  though  lavish 
m  her  affection,  the  mother  gave  her  son 
no  opportunity  for  personal  conversation. 

"Wallingford  was  greatly  distressed.  He 
attributed  his  want  of  success  to  his  un- 
skilful manner  of  presenting  the  truth. 
He  did  not  realize  that  the  hour  of  her 
salvation  had  not  yet  come.  Oh,  how 
earnestly  he  wished  Edith  were  there  to 
probe  his  mother's  heart  as  she  had 
probed  his  own !  Then  after  his  first 
joy,  when  doubts  and  fears  arose,  how 
quickly  she  had  strengthened  his  faint 
heart  by  the  promises  of  God. 

Walking  solitary  in  the  forest  near  his 
mother's  lodge,  he  revolved  all  these  sub- 
jects, vainly  endeavoring  to  peep  through 
the  cloud  which  darkened  his  mother's 
mind  keeping  her  from  joy  and  peace 
in  believing. 

Though  he    had    the    utmost    confidence 

13 


194r  LEELINAU. 

in  Father  Creeny's  motives,  be  could 
but  acknowledge  that  the  religion  of 
rites  and  ceremonies,  of  mere  outward  ob 
servances  still  clung  to  him,  and  these 
were  made  in  a  degree  to  take  the  place 
of  genuine  faith  and  trust  in  Christ  as 
the  all-atoning  sacrifice.  It  was  difficult 
for  the  priest  at  once  to  overcome  the 
influence  of  a  long  life  of  adherence  to 
dangerous  theories,  and  to  believe  in 
Christ's  ability  to  do  his  own  work.  On 
this  account  the  gentleman  did  not  regret 
as  he  otherwise  would  have  done  the  ab- 
sence of  this  noble-hearted  man. 

After  days  of  the  deepest  solicitude, 
ho  resolved  to  repeat  to  his  mother 
the  story  of  his  own  trials  with  a  proud, 
sinful  heart  before  he  was  brought  by 
divine  grace  to  sit  humbly  at  the  feet 
of  his  Saviour. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

LIGHT  THROUGH  THE   CLOUD. 

T  was  a  cool,  frosty  November  day. 
Leelinau,  reclining  on  her  bear-skin 
mats,  was  busying  herself  in  em- 
broidering a  pair  of  moccasins  for  her 
son;  and,  finding  her  strength  rapidly  fail- 
ing, would  not  rest  until  they  were  fin- 
ished. Sho  had  one  day  expressed  a 
desire  to  hear  once  more  the  sound  of 
the  organ  her  husband  used  to  play :  and 
Wallingford  desirous  to  gratify  every  wish, 
had  sent  to  St.  Louis  for  a  man  to  come 
and  put  the  instrument  in  order. 

"Are  you  too  tired  to  hear  me  talk, 
Leelinau'? "  he  asked,  bending  over  her 
with  looks  and  tones  of  love. 

(196) 


196  LEELINAU. 

"  The  '  notes  of  the  Chileoli  are  not 
more  sweet  to  my  ear,  my  son." 

He  threw  himself  on  a  costly  wolf-skin 
at  her  feet,  and  removing  her  work  from 
her  hands,  recounted  minutely  his  loneli- 
ness after  his  father's  death,  the  void  in 
his  heart,  the  whisperings  of  the  spirit 
of  grace,  his  own  feeling  after  God,  his 
proud,  rebellious  heart  that  would  not  ac- 
cept free  pardon,  but  sought  by  a  moral 
life  and  generous  deeds  to  win  heaven 
for  himself.  Then  ho  described,  the  emo- 
tions which  surged  through  his  breast 
when  told  that,  far  away  in  the  wilds  of 
America,  there  yet  lived  the  mother  who 
had  given  him  birth;  and  the  injunction 
left  by  his  father  that  ho  should  visit 
her,  and  if  she  had  not  already  embraced 
the  Saviour,  that  he  should  win  her  to 
the  cross. 

"A  blind  leader    of    the  blind,  I   should 


LIGHT    THROUGH    THE    CLOUD.  197 

then  have  been,"  he  added,  every  feature 
agitated  with  emotion.  "  I  was  blind.  I 
walked  in  darkness,  and  would  not  see 
the  light.  The  work  I  had  to  accomplish 
weighed  heavily  on  my  spirits.  I  became 
a  reserved,  gloomy  man.  On  my  voyage 
to  Halifax  my  distress  of  mind  increased. 
I  prayed,  beseeching  God  to  grant  peace 
to  my  troubled  soul;  but  still  I  would 
not  accept  Christ  as  my  ransom,  my  me- 
diator with  my  offended  God,  and  there 
was  no  peace  for  me.  I  had  letters  to 
some  of  my  guardian's  friends,  resident  in 
Canada;  and  I  proceeded  there  to  deliver 
them,  and  from  thence  started  for  the 
States,  anxious  first  to  find  my  father's 
friend  and  agent,  Father  Greeny,  who 
would  conduct  me  to  you.  In  Montreal 
I  met  a  young  girl  scarcely  more  than 
a  child  in  years  but  a  woman  in  knovvl- 
3.  I  saw  her,  when  in  affliction,  go 


198  LEELINAU. 

I 

to  her  Father  in  heaven  with  the  confid- 
ing trust  of  a  babe.  At  last  I  told  her 
I  was  in  darkness ;  and  gently  she  led 
me  on  till  I  saw  my  error.  I  laid  my 
burden  at  Jesus'  feet,  and  in  that  hour 
I  found  sweet  peace.  Christ  says  '  Him 
that  cometh  unto  me  I  will  in  no  wise 
cast  out.' " 

When  his  voice  ceased,  Leelinau  said  ab- 
ruptly: "I  would  be  alone.  When  Petalesh- 
aroo  returns  from  the  chase,  ask  him  to 
tarry  at  the  door." 

It  was  not  long,  however,  before  she 
summoned  them  to  return,  but  she  did 
not  ask  to  renew  the  conversation  She 
lay  with  her  eyes  closed,  while  the  at- 
tendant squaw  moved  about,  preparing  a 
savory  stew  for  the  evening  repast. 

When  all  was  in  readiness,  she  arose 
and  ate  with  the  rest,  then,  beckoning  her 
brother  to  her  side,  began: 


LIGHT   THROUGH   THE   CLOUD.  199 

"  Petalesharoo,  my  time  is  short.  You 
are  a  mighty  Chief.  Our  fathers  were  war- 
riors who  feared  not  the  face  of  man. 
Petalesharoo,  who  will  be  Chief  when  the 
Master  of  Life  calls  you  to  the  land  of 
the  blest  ?  Listen  to  my  voice.  I  have 
heard  the  call  of  the  Great  Spirit.  When 
I  am  gone,  my  son  will  return  to  the  land 
of  his  father ;  his  heart  has  chosen  a  mate ; 
and  he  will  not  long  tarry  at  a  distance 
from  her.  You  have  been  father,  brother, 
chief  to  poor  Leelinau ;  but  in  turn  your 
heart  will  be  sad.  Let  this  not  be  so, 
my  brother.  Take  the  bright-eyed  Iva,  and 
bring  her  to  your  lodge.  Then  when  I 
see  that  you  are  comforted,  I  can  go  in 
peace  to  the  land  where  there  will  be  no 
more  sorrow  nor  parting  forever." 

While  she  was  speaking  Petalesharoo  sat 
gazing  in  her  face  with  the  calmness  under 
which  a  Brave  hides  his  deepest  emotion, 


200  LEELINAU. 

either  of  sorrow  or  joy.  Just  so  had  he 
gazed  at  Wallingford  when  they  were  seated 
together  in  the  boat,  and  on  recognizing 
him  had  given  no  sign  of  the  tide  of  joy 
surging  through  his  heart. 

Leelinau  waited  for  him  to  answer,  and 
then  added :  "  Take  Iva  who  is  a  fair  and 
virtuous  maiden:  she  has  hearkened  to  the 
whispers  of  the  Great  Spirit.  Let  her  be 
a  companion  to  you  when  I  am  gone  and 
the  mother  of  mighty  warriors." 

"  Your  words  are  new  to  me,"  he  an- 
swered at  length,  "  I  will  give  heed  to 
them." 

Having  said  this,  he  arose,  and  walked 
slowly  from  the  lodge. 

Leelinau  bade  her  squaw  tell  her  which 
path  he  had  taken,  and  when  she  knew  he 
had  gone  to  the  wigwam  where  Iva  lived 
with  her  father,  she  was  glad. 

Wallingford's   couch   was   adjacent    to   hia 


LIGHT   THROUGH   THE   CLOUDS.  201 

mother's,  separated  from  hers  only  by  heavy 
curtains.  The  night  after  his  long  talk 
•with  her,  his  anxiety  prevented  him  from 
sleep.  He  arose  at  last  and  kneeling  by 
his  couch  poured  out  his  full  heart  before 
God  in  earnest  supplications  for  her  con- 
version, lie  besieged  the  mercy-seat  cry- 
ing like  the  patriarch  of  old,  "  I  will  not 
give  thee  up,  except  thou  bless  me." 

"When  he  returned  to  his  couch  his  heart 
was  full  of  joy.  He  was  willing  to  wait 
God's  time.  He  had  faith  in  the  promise, 
"  Ask  what  ye  will,  believing  and  ye  shall 
receive."  There  was  a  blessing  in  store 
for  Leelinau. 

The  next  day  the  man  arrived  at  the 
lodge  to  tune  the  organ ;  and  he  also 
brought  a  bundle  of  letters  for  Wallingford 
which  Father  Greeny  had  forwarded  from 
St.  Louis.  One  bore  a  foreign  stamp; 
but  it  was  laid  aside ;  another  was  from 


202  LEELINAU. 

Mr.  Cahill,  this  was  received  with  a  smile; 
but  there  was  another  still,  which  the 
mother,  eagerly  watching,  saw  him  press 
to  his  lips. 

With  a  sigh  she  whispered  to  herself, 
"He  will  be  comforted  when  I  am  gone. 
But  I  am  content.  I  am  glad  my  son 
will  be  happy.  I  shall  be  happy  too." 

The  letter  so  prized  was  from  Edith. 
From  the  neat,  flowing  chirograpby  on 
the  small  card  she  had  given  him,  he  at 
once  recognized  the  address,  and  with  a 
beaming  face  retired  to  his  own  apartment, 
if  such  it  could  be  called,  to  read  it  by 
himself.  Shah1  I  give  it  to  you,  my  reader  ? 

"  I  can  scarcely  tell  you,  Mr.  Walling- 
ford,  how  deeply  the  contents  of  your  long 
and  interesting  journal  affected  me.  Tears 
of  sorrow  flowed  for  dear  Leelinau  at  the 
separation  from  her  husband,  and  also  tears 
of  sympathy  with  her  joy  at  your  return. 


LIGHT   THROUGH  THE   CLOUD.  203 

With  my  whole  heart  I  pray  that  the 
gracious  Spirit  may  take  of  the  things  of 
Christ,  and  make  them  plain  unto  her; 
and  that  she  may  receive  the  Saviour  in 
all  his  fulness.  How  I  yearn  to  do  her 
good;  and  yet,  would  she  receive  the 
words  of  one  whom  she  has  never  seen? 

If  you  think  it  right  you  may  tell  hei 
from  me,  that  the  peace  coming  from  sub 
mission  to  God  is  like  a  flowing  river ; 
like  the  sun  majestically  receding  from 
sight,  leaving  the  roseate  clouds  reflect- 
ing its  splendor — like  the  calm  of  the  waves 
after  a  storm  has  passed, — like  the  peace- 
ful quiet  of  an  infant's  slumbers,  a  peace 
which  passeth  understanding,  which  the 
world  cannot  give  nor  take  away. 

"  I  shall  look  for  your  next  letter  with 
impatience.  My  imagination  has  easily  pic- 
tured the  scene  of  the  re-union  :  but  I 
long  to  learn  how  it  actually  took  place, 


204  LEELIXAU. 

and   whether    you    found    her    a    believing 
Christian.     God  grant    it  may  be   so. 

"  After  your  description  of  Petalesharoo, 
so  brave,  so  tender,  my  heart  goes  out 
to  him  with  deep  regard.  How  wonder- 
ful that  in  the  midst  of  warlike  tribes, 
such  humane  sentiments  as  govern  him 
and  Letelesha  should  take  root.  What  a 
noble  Christian  the  present  Chief  would 
make  !  I  hope  he  is  one,  and  that  his  in- 
fluence for  the  religion  of  the  Bible  may 
be  powerful  among  his  people. 

"I  have  taken  the  liberty  to  send  Lee- 
linau  a  little  token  of  affection,  which,  if 
you  think  it  proper,  you  may  present  her, 
with  the  kindest  wishes  of  one  who  owes 
to  her  Blackbird's  generous  kindness,  the 
welfare,  perhaps  the  life  of  her  father." 

Folded  in  an  inner  envelope  was  a 
book-mark  of  rich  crimson  ribbon,  on  which 
the  text  from  Scripture,  "  THY  WORD  GIVETH 


LIGHT  THROUGH  THE  CLOUD.      205 

LIFE"  was  wrought  in  gold  cord  with 
exquisite  skill.  The  ends  were  ornament- 
ed with  deep  fringe.  On  the  outside  of 
the  envelope  the  superscription  was,  "  To 
Leelinau,  the  Indian  Princess,  with  sincere 
regard." 

Wallingford  pressed  the  precious  gift  re- 
peatedly to  his  lips,  and  then  eagerly  re- 
sumed the  reading. 

"I  feel  reluctant  to  intrude  upon  you, 
any  thoughts  not  connected  with  those  you 
love ;  but  I  cannot  send  my  letter  with- 
out telling  you  about  my  father.  Soon 
after  I  left  Montreal,  he  was  seized  with 
an  alarming  attack  of  pneumonia,  the  re- 
sult of  the  uncongenial  temperature ;  the 
physician  assured  him  that  he  could  not 
probably  survive  the  winter,  unless  he  re- 
moved to  a  warmer  climate.  But  though 
born  in  affluence,  he  had  now  become  so 
reduced  by  the  fraud  of  those  from  whom 


206  LEELINAU. 

he  deserved  better  treatment,  he  had  not 
the  means  to  follow  his  physician's  advice ; 
but  in  the  words  of  the  Psalmist  he  cried 
unto  the  Lord  in  his  trouble,  and  He  de- 
livered him  out  of  his  distresses. 

"  Only  a  few  days  before  he  and  War- 
ner reached  Savannah,  did  I  become  aware 
either  of  the  immediate  necessity  for  his 
removal,  or  that  the  means  to  remove 
had  been  generously  furnished  him.  We 
are  now  delightfully  situated  in  the  house 
you  authorized  Mr.  Cahill  to  hire.  ( You 
see  how  vain  it  is  to  try  to  keep  a  se- 
cret from  curious  woman.)  My  father 
is  fast  recovering  his  usual  strength.  My 
piano  reached  me  without  injury,  and  I 
now  give  lessons  in  my  own  house  from 
six  to  eight  hours  a  day.  Besides  these 
lessons,  which  are  very  remunerative,  I 
have  received  an  invitation  to  give  lessons 
in  elocution  one  evening  in  every  week 


LIGHT  THROUGH  THE  CLOUD.      207 

to  a  class  of  young  ladie?  connected  with 
a  school  in  Savannah.  I  wish  I  knew 
whether  it  would  meet  the  approbation  of 
all  my  friends.  I  have  a  great  motive 
for  earning  money.  Mr.  Cahill,  my  kind 
adviser,  has  promised  to  pay  the  rent  of 
our  house  from  the  salary  which  I  earn 
as  organist;  and  if  I  am  blessed  with 
health  I  shall  before  long  be  able  to  meet 
all  other  pecuniary  obligations.  The  noble 
generosity  which  prompted  the  offer  of 
money  I  shall  ever  remember  with  <t 
grateful  heart.  EDITH." 


CHAPTER 

BEHOLD,   HE  PRATS. 

ALLINGFORD  returned  to  the  side 
of  his  mother,  every  feature  ex- 
pressive of  joy.  He  seated  himself 
near  her  on  a  pile  of  mats,  and,  having 
placed  the  token  of  love  in  her  hands,  pro- 
ceeded to  deliver  Edith's  message.  It 
was  more  delightful  than  he  could  express, 
thus  to  bring  these  two,  most  dearly 
loved  on  earth,  into  sympathy  and  affec- 
tion. 

Leelinau  listened  with  a  peculiar  smile : 
but  she  said  not  a  word.  She  folded  tho 
pretty  gift  in  a  piece  of  cloth,  and  placed 
it  in  her  bosom. 


BEHOLD,    HE   PRAYS.  209 

"What  shall  I  tell  her,  Leelinau,  My 
dear  Life?"  asked  her  son  with  inexpressi- 
ble tenderness. 

She  gazed  in  his  face  as  only  a  mother 
can  gaze  who  knows  that  she  is  soon  to 
leave  one  so  dearly  loved,  and  then  said 
in  a  faltering  voice: 

"Tell  her,  I  have  looked  into  Black- 
bird's heart,  and  I  am  content  with  what 
I  have  seen.  I  love  my  daughter  Edith, 
who  gives  my  son  good  counsel.  From 
the  happy  land  where  I  am  going,  I 
will  look  down  and  see  my  children. 
Flying-leap  and  Letelesha  will  look  and 
be  content." 

"  My  dear,  precious  mother,"  exclaimed 
Wallingford,  seizing  her  hand  and  cover- 
ing it  with  kisses.  "Have  you  indeed 
found  peace  ?  " 

"My  soul  is  at  rest,"  was  her  calm 
reply,  lifting  her  eyes  to  heaTen. 


210  LEELINAU. 

He  could  scarcely  contain  his  joy,  and 
was  obliged  to  walk  several  times  the 
length  of  the  open  room  in  the  lodge  be- 
fore he  could  command  his  voice  to  speak. 

"  When  did  the  light  dawn  into  your 
soul?"  he  began.  "Oh  Leelinau,  more  than 
ever  Leelinau,  my  dear  Life !  My  joy  is 
great.  Can  you  not  tell  me  when  you  first 
began  to  see  the  glories  of  the  Saviour's 
character  ?  " 

"  My  father  on  earth  loved  to  grant  his 
children  their  request,"  she  answered,  rais- 
ing her  eyes,  "my  Father  in  heaven  also 
hears.  He  heard  Blackbird  crying  aloud 
when  the  lodge  was  silent.  He  heard,  and 
poured  delight  in  the  soul  of  poor,  de- 
spairing Leelinau." 

"  And  has  the  darkness  fled  away, 
mother  ?  " 

"Darkness  and  light  cannot  dwell  to- 
gether, my  son.  My  soul  is  full  of  light 


BEHOLD,   HE   PRAYS.  211 

The  beams  of  the  midday  sun  are  not 
more  bright  and  glorious.  My  heart  sings 
with  rapture.  The  song  will  last  forever 
more." 

"What  is  the  song,  my  mother?  Let 
me  sing  it  with  you." 

Oh  Jesus,  Jesus,  glorious  1 

The  light  of  heaven  thou  art; 
And  thou  hast  shed  thy  radiance 

On  a  lonely  Indian  heart. 

Great  Prince,  receive  Leelinau ; 

The  Indian  captive  free: 
From  sin  and  sorrow  free  her, 

And  let  her  dwell  with  thee. 

Over  Leelinau's  wigwam, 

Sing  birds  of  golden  crest ; 
But  sweeter  songs  in  Paradise, 

The  regions  of  the  blest. 

Leelinau  chanted  these  words,  while  her 
son  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  wept 
tears  of  joy  unspeakable. 


212  LEELINAU. 

When  she  had  finished,  Wallingford  seat- 
ed  himself  at  the  organ,  and  played  a 
simple  accompaniment  to  the  inspiring 
words : 

"  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  lives, 
And  ever  reigns  for  me." 

After  this  Leelinau  closed  her  eyes,  and 
requested  to  be  left  alone. 

For  several  days  Petalesharoo  had  been 
absent  for  hours  together.  Uis  nephew- 
was  aware  he  had  not  gone  on  a  hunt- 
ing expedition  because  his  bow  and 
arrows,  his  rifle  and  powder-horn,  a  pres- 
ent from  Flying-leap,  were  hanging  in 
their  places  on  the  walls. 

While  Wallingford  was  playing  the  organ 
the  Chief  was  drawing  near  the  lodge, 
and  tarried  outside  to  listen.  The  words 
fell  on  his  heart,  already  softened  by  the 
workings  of  the  Spirit,  with  quickening 
power. 


BEHOLD,   HE  PRATS.  213 

Ever  since  his  father's  death,  I'etalesha- 
roo  had  sighed  in  secret  over  his  own 
ignorance  and  bondage  to  sin,  and  now  as 
Wallingford's  clear,  rich  notes  feh1  on  his 
ear, 

"Salvation   to   his   saints   he   gives, 
And  life  and  liberty;" 

he  asked  himself,  "  "Will  he  give  salvation, 
life  and  liberty  to  a  Pawnee?  Will  he 
give  these  blessings  to  me  ? " 

He  turned  on  his  heel  and  strode  quick- 
ly away  into  the  depths  of  the  forest. 
He  wanted  to  be  alone  with  the  Great 
Spirit,  and  bare  his  heart  before  him. 
He  wanted  to  give  himself,  with  all  his 
powers  of  body  and  mind  to  the  gracious 
Being  who  had  such  blessings  to  bestow. 

"  But,"  he  asked,  seating  himself  on  the 
fallen  trunk  of  a  tree,  "  will  he  accept 
me?  What  have  I  done  to  attract  the 
slightest  notice  from  the  great  Master  of 


214  LEELINAU. 

Life  ?  "What  can  I  do  to  show  him  I  wish 
to  render  him  homage  ?  Can  I  turn  the 
hearts  of  my  tribe  to  bow  down  before 
him?  How  can  I  win  his  favor?" 

A  bird  of  the  richest  plumage  called  the 
Chileeli  came  and  perched  on  the  topmost 
bough  of  a  tree  above  him,  carolling  his 
plaintive  notes.  There  was  a  superstition 
among  the  Indian  tribes  that  the  spirits 
of  the  departed  sometimes  entered  this 
bird,  to  win  the  loved  ones  left  behind, 
to  the  regions  of  the  blest. 

The  soft  notes  touched  the  heart  of  the 
Chieftain,  and  he  sighed  profoundly.  Just 
so  many  times  before,  had  Petalesharoo 
been  drawn  near  to  God ;  but  still  he 
found  no  peace.  His  head  drooped  for- 
ward, and,  clasping  his  hands,  he  gazed  up 
into  the  blue  heavens.  His  heart  went  up 
to  the  throne  in  a  troubled  cry,  "  Is  there 
mercy  for  me  ?  " 


BEHOLD,   HE   PEAY3.  215 

Suddenly  there  came  a  voice,  speaking 
to  his  soul : 

"  This  is  a  faithful  saying  and  worthy  of 
all  acceptation,  that  Jesus  Christ  came 
into  the  world  to  save  sinners  of  whom  I 
am  chief." 

Often  before  had  he  listened  to  these 
words  from  the  white  man's  Bible ;  but 
now  they  came  with  power.  He  buried  his 
face  in  his  hands,  and  tears,  which  tor- 
ture could  not  wring  from  him,  now  fell 
in  joyful  gratitude  to  his  great  Deliverer 
from  the  bondage  of  sin. 

One  hour  and  then  another  passed  away ; 
the  shades  of  evening  began  to  fall;  but 
still  the  Chief  sat  under  the  huge  tree 
buried  in  thought.  "  0  Christ,"  was  his 
fervent  prayer,  "  wipe  my  heart  clean  from 
all  sin.  I  give  myself  to  thee,  I  am  thy 
servant,  thy  soldier,  to  do  thy  will.  All 
I  have  is  thine.  Put  words  into  my  mouth 


216  LEELINAU. 

that  I  may  tell  thee  what  rapture  fills  my 
soul.  Hide  me  under  thy  wings  from  the 
allurements  of  my  great  enemy,  sin ;  pre- 
serve me  pure  in  thy  sight." 

These   lines   of  an  American  poet,  beauti- 
fully   describe   the   change    in    the    Brave : 

"The   bow   and    quiver  which    his   fathers'  made, 
The   gun   that  filled   the  warrior's   deadliest  vow; 
The   mace,   the  spear,   the   axe,   the  ambuscade, — 
Where   are    they   now  ? 

Mute  are  the  hills   that  woke  his  dreadful  yell, 
Scared  nations   listen  with   affright  no   more; 
He  walks   a   Christian  over  field  and  dell 
Once   red  with  gore. 

Glory  and  fame  that  erewhile  fired  his  soul 
And  nerved  for    war  his   ever  vengeful  hand, 
What  charm   has   proved   more   winning  to   control  1 
The  Better  Land. 

Frontlet  and  wampum  both  are  thrown    away 
His   native   altars   stand   without  a  blaze,  — 
Truth,  robed  in  gospel  light,   hath  found  her  way, 
And,  hark!  he    prays." 


BEHOLD,   HE  PRAYS.  217 

At  length  the  moon  arose  ;  and  then  the 
Chief  rising  from  his  seat,  strode  hastily 
toward  the  smoke  of  his  wigwam. 

Wallingford  was  reclining  near  his  mother, 
reading  to  her  the  account  of  the  New 
Jerusalem  from  St.  John's  Revelation. 

"  They  shall  hunger  no  more,  neither 
thirst  any  more ;  neither  shall  the  sun 
light  on  them,  nor  any  heat.  For  the 
Lamb  which  is  in  the  midst  of  the  throne 
shall  feed  them,  and  shall  lead  them  unto 
living  fountains  of  waters ;  and  God  shall 
wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes." 

The  Chieftain  entered  silently,  and  stood 
gazing  upon  his  sister.  Not  one  muscle 
of  his  features  gave  evidence  of  the  tide 
of  grief  which  the  sight  of  her  wan  face 
caused  to  surge  through  his  heart.  She 
turned  her  eyes  from  her  son  and  fixed 
them  earnestly  on  her  brother. 

"I    have    heard    the    call    of  the    Great 


218  LEELDfAU. 

Spirit,"  she  said,  "I  am  glad  to  go:  bat 
I  sorrow  to  leave  you  alone.  Will  you 
accept  salvation  from  Christ  and  meet  me 
there?" 

The  countenance  of  the  Chief  kindled. 
He  struck  his  hand  on  his  breast  as  he 
exclaimed : 

"  My  soul  is  full  of  joy.  His  love  fills 
me  so  that  I  desire  nothing  more.  I  shall 
follow  you  when  the  Master  of  Life  calls:, 
and  walk  with  you  forever  in  the  fields 
of  Paradise." 

Leelinau  was  evidently  failing.  Every 
hour  found  her  weaker  ^than  the  last.  But 
there  were  still  duties  to  perform ;  and  she 
prayed  that  she  might  have  strength  that 
nothing  be  left  undone. 

The  next  day  was  the  last  of  the  week. 
The  Chief  had  sent  messengers  to  the  most 
distant  of  the  tribe  to  call  them  together 
on  the  Sabbath.  He  had  words  to  speak 


BEHOLD,   HE  PEATS.  219 

to  them.  In  the  afternoon,  by  his  sister's 
request,  he  went  to  Iva's  wigwam,  and 
brought  her  to  the  lodge.  What  passed 
between  the  two,  Wallingford  did  not  know. 
When  Leelinau  summoned  them  to  join  her, 
there  were  traces  of  tears  on  the  face  of 
each.  She  beckoned  to  Petalesharoo  to 
draw  near  the  bed,  and  placed  Iva's  hand 
in  his. 

"  She  is  yours,  my  brother.  She  will 
make  you  happy  when  I  am  gone.  To- 
gether you  will  talk  of  Leelinau.  When 
the  Great  Spirit  calls,  you  will  come  home 
to  me  there,"  raising  her  finger  toward 
heaven.  "Iva  has  promised  to  love  the 
Saviour;  and  she  will  do  it." 

She  sank  back  exhausted  j  and  when  her 
son  bent  over  her,  clasped  his  hand,  mo- 
tioning the  others  to  leave  her.  Not  a  word 
was  spoken,  Leelinau  lay  with  her  eyes 
closed,  her  bosom  heaving  so  faintly  that 


220  LEELIXAU. 

the  watcher  could  scarcely  discern  that  she 
breathed. 

4  An  old  squaw  presently  drew  near,  bring- 
ing  a   decoction   of  herbs. 

"  It  is  well,"  the  sick  woman  said,  draining 
the  cup,  and  returning  it  with  a  smile. 

"  I  am  better,"  she  added,  in  a  stronger 
voice.  "  Listen  to  me."  She  drew  Edith's 
gift  from  her  bosom  and  pressing  her  lips 
upon  it  said: 

"  Bury  this  in  the  grave  with  mo.  I 
shall  thus  carry  the  love  of  my  daughter 
to  the  Land  of  the  Blest.  I  shall  tell  Fly- 
ing-leap that  you  are  happy  with  one  you 
love.  It  is  a  grief  to  me  that  I  cannot 
once  clasp  my  daughter  to  my  heart.  I 
would  like  to  look  into  her  eyes,  and  hear 
her  wonderful  voice ;  but  I  shall  see  her 
in  heaven.  Give  her  this,"  taking  a  pack- 
age from  her  side,  "  and  tell  her  what  I 
have  said." 


CHAPTER 

! 

DEATH   OF    LEELINAU. 

rtETALESHAROO  had  also  sent  for 
Father  Greeny.  Leelinau  was  sure 
the  sun  would  not  rise  many  times 
more  for  her ;  and  she  wished  to  see  Iva 
take  her  place  in  the  lodge.  It  seemed  to 
be  her  delight  to  make  every  one  happy 
before  she  went  her  long  journey. 

Sabbath  morning  arose  bright  and  beau- 
tiful. The  trees  were  mostly  stripped  of 
their  foliage,  and  the  naked  branches  lifted 
themselves  toward  heaven.  Not  far  from 
the  front  of  the  lodge  was  a  clear,  open 
space,  which  by  twelve  o'clock  was  covered 
with  a  dense  crowd  of  warriors.  Each 
warrior  was  armed  according  to  the  cus- 

(221) 


222  LEELINAU. 

torn  of  the  period  with  a  bow  and  quiver 
of  arrows,  the  heads  of  the  most  distin- 
guished, being  dt/corated  by  eagle  feathers. 

It  was  evident  that  they  supposed  Peta- 
lesharoo  wished  to  send  them  on  some 
warlike  expedition  ;  but  they  wondered  at 
being  summoned  to  this  place,  instead  of 
the  council  ground.  This  was  in  the  cen- 
tre of  a  plain  where  stood  a  huge  pine, 
around  which,  ever  since  their  settlement 
here,  they  had  gathered  on  such  occasions. 

Closer  and  closer  they  stood  as  the  crowd 
still  increased,  every  man  with  head  erect 
and  features  calm  and  unmoved. 

At  length  the  door  of  the  lodge  opened, 
and  Petalesharoo  came  forth  dressed  as  on 
the  occasion  of  his  visit  to  St.  Louis.  Be- 
hind him  stood  his  nephew  supporting 
Leeliuau.  The  princess  sat  in  the  large 
chair  or  lounge  with  her  head  resting  on 
her  son's  shoulder. 


DEATH   OF  LEELINAU.  223 

At  her  left  side*  stood  Iva,  her  neck, 
arms  and  ears  adorned  with  jewels,  proof 
of  her  betrothal  to  a  chief,  her  eyes  mod- 
estly cast  to  the  floor. 

Every  eye  was  fixed  on  the  Bravest  of 
the  Brave,  as  he  thus  addressed  them : 

"  Brothers,  open  your  ears.  You  have 
come  at  my  call.  You  are  brave  men. 
When  the  war-whoop  sounds  you  are  ready 
for  battle.  I  say  to  you  this  because  the 
Great  Spirit  has  told  me  we  are  fighting 
in  a  bad  cause.  He  has  sent  us  a  chart. 
How  does  it  read?  Does  the  Great  Spirit 
say,  Go  and  kill  your  brother?  Bring  home 
a  necklace  of  scalps  of  your  enemies  ? 
Capture  the  squaws  and  burn  them  at  the 
stake  ?  Does  he  say  this  ?  No,  my  broth- 
ers. He  says,  '  Love  your  enemies,  do 
good  to  them  that  hate  you.'  He  says, 
'  As  ye  would  that  men  should  do  to  you, 
do  ye  even  so  to  them.' 


224  LEELINAU. 

"Warriors,  you  aro  braves.  You  never 
flee  before  your  enemy.  You  can  endure 
hunger,  and  cold,  and  fatigue.  You  do  not 
weep  when  trouble  comes  upon  you.  War- 
riors, I,  your  Chief,  have  begun  a  new 
fight.  Will  you  follow  Petalesharoo  ?  Broth- 
ers, I  give  you  my  hand,  and  welcome 
you ;  Leelinau  welcomes  you.  Blackbird, 
the  son  of  your  brother,  Flying-leap,  wel- 
comes you.  I  shall  soon  explain. 

"Warriors,  our  fathers'  hunting-grounds 
once  covered  this  whole  land.  We  put 
one  hand  on  the  eastern  and  the  other 
on  the  western  ocean.  Our  people  were 
numerous  as  the  flowers  of  the  field,  as 
the  shells  on  the  seashore,  as  the  fish  in 
the  sea.  When  we  heard  the  sound  of  the 
war-whoop,  our  chiefs  talked  long  and  loud 
around  the  council  fires.  Our  warriors, 
thick  as  the  stars  of  night,  leaped  into 
their  canoes;  and,  swift  as  an  eagle  cuts 


DEATH   OF   LEELINAU.  225 

the  air,  they  flew  over  the  lakes,  arid  made 
the  whole  heavens  red  with  the  blood  of 
their  enemies. 

"  My  brothers,  why  is  this  not  true  now  ? 
Why  are  our  hunting-grounds  no  larger 
than  a  warrior  with  a  fleet  foot  can  trav- 
erse in  a  day?  Why  are  our  own  tribes 
at  war  with  each  other?  Why  are  they 
still  ignorant?  Why  do  not  our  lands  yield 
us  riches?  Listen,  while  I  tell  you  why. 
Write  it  on  your  memories.  It  is  because 
the  God  of  the  pale-face  is  a  great  God. 
It  is  because  when  he  says,  l  Kill  not,'  we 
have  not  listened  to  his  voice.  It  is  because 
when  he  says,  '  revenge  not,'  we  have  re- 
venged. It  is  because  when  he  sends  white 
brothers  to  teach  us  the  way  to  be  a 
great  people,  we  do  not  heed  them. 

"  My  brothers,  when  Letelesha  went  at 
the  call  of  the  Master  of  Life,  he  bade 
you  cease  from  revenge.  He  bade  you 

16 


226  LEELINATT. 

cease  from  strife  with  warlike  tribes.  I 
too,  Lave  a  message  for  you  from  the  Great 
Spirit  you  will  meet  when  you  are  called 
from  earth.  I  have  hid  the  words  in  my 
heart.  From  this  time  I  shah1  no  more  kill, 
nor  seek  to  make  war.  I  shall  no  more 
sound  the  war-whoop  to  call  you  to  arms. 
I  shall  hunt  the  wild  beasts.  I  shall  learn 
from  our  brothers  the  arts  of  civilization. 
This  is  how  I  ask  you  to  follow  me.  Will 
you  come?  Then  I  bid  you  welcome.  This 
is  not  all.  I  shall  make  you  more  speeches. 
I  shall  call  our  braves  many  times  around 
the  council  fires.  I  shall  tell  you  of  one  gra- 
cious Being  who  will  put  good  thoughts 
into  our  minds.  I  shall  tell  you  of  One, 
who,  when  we  are  leaning  on  our  staffs  Avait- 
ing  the  summons  from  the  Great  Spirit,  will 
take  us  by  the  hand,  and  load  us  to  the 
green  fields  and  living  waters  of  the  Land  of 
the  Blest. 


DEATH   OF  LEELINAU.  227 

u  I  have  made  you  a  great  talk.  Now 
I  say  to  you,  bury  the  hatchet.  Live  in 
peace  as  long  as  the  sun  rises  and  sets, 
or  the  rivers  run  into  the  sea." 

The  Chief  paused  and  looked  toward 
Leelinau. 

"Your  counsel  is  good,"  answered  a  tall 
warrior.  "  We  shall  not  forget  it." 

"My  brothers,"  resumed  Petalesharoo, 
waving  his  hand  for  silence,  "  listen  for 
yourselves,  and  tell  it  to  your  squaws. 
Leelinau  speaks  to  you.  She  has  had  a 
call  from  the  Great  Spirit.  She  is  going 
to  the  region  of  the  blest.  She  will  meet 
Letelesha  there.  Letelesha  who  learned 
from  Flying-leap  of  the  One  Friend  who 
can  lead  us  safely  to  the  gates  of  heaven. 
What  shall  she  say  to  him  from  his  army 
of  brave  warriors?  Will  you  listen  to 
this  Friend  of  Sinners?  Will  you  have 
him  for  your  Chief?" 


228  LEELINAU. 

"  Let  Letelesha  hear  our  voices  answer. 
We  will  follow  him." 

For  one  moment  there  was  profound 
silence.  Leelinau  beckoned  her  brother  to 
her  side,  when  turning  to  the  multitude 
he  said : 

"  The  sister  of  your  Chief,  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  Bravo,  the  good  Letelesha  bids 
you  farewell.  She  will  meet  you  in  an- 
other world.  Peace  and  happiness,  by  the 
blessing  of  the  Great  Spirit,  attend  you. 
Farewell." 

During  the  remainder  of  the  day  Lee- 
linau lay  with  her  eyes  closed.  The  sands 
of  life  were  fast  running  out. 

Toward  night  she  revived  from  her 
dreadful  languor  and  asked: 

"  Has   Father   Greeny   come  ?  " 

Her  brother  instantly  sent  to  the  wig- 
wam of  the  priest  and  found  that  he  had 
just  arrived  but  was  greatly  exhausted. 


DEATH  OF  LEELINAU.  229 

"It  is  well,"  was  the  answer  of  the 
dying  woman. 

Whenever  she  was  awake,  she  kept  her 
son's  hand  clasped  in  her  own,  and  her 
eyes  fixed  on  his  face,  and  when  she 
fell  asleep  he  would  not  leave  her. 

Petalesharoo  and  Iva  also  sat  near, 
watching  every  motion  of  the  sufferer. 

Once   she  murmured   in  her   sleep: 

"  Oh  Jesus,  Jesus  glorious  1 " 

Again  she  addressed  Flying-leap,  saying, 
"I  have  learned  the  good  words.  My 
soul  is  full  of  love.  "We  shall  part  no 
more."  And  when  "Wallingford  pressed 
the  cup  of  medicine  to  her  lips  she  said, 
with  a  smile : 

"My  daughter  will  comfort  you.  I  am 
glad  you  will  be  happy.  She  is  good." 

When  the  morning  dawned  her  voico 
was  almost  gone;  but  she  made  signs 


230  LEELIXAF. 

that  Father  Greeny  should  be  summoned. 
Her  brother  and  Iva  knew  well  what 
her  wish  was;  and  they  had  promised 
to  gratiiy  her.  They  stood  side  by  side 
before  her  couch  while  her  son  supported 
her  dying  head  on  his  breast;  and  there 
the  rites  of  Christian  marriage  were  per- 
formed by  the  priest. 

When  it  was  over,  Petalesharoo  bent 
over  his  sister  and  pressed  a  kiss  of 
farewell  on  her  damp  brow.  Iva  followed 
his  example.  With  difficulty  she  murmured, 
"  I  am  now  ready.  I  am  content.  Think 
of  Leelinau  but  do  not  mourn." 

They  then  gave  place  for  Father  Greeny 
to  approach,  when  she  bade  him  farewell, 
thanking  him  for  all  his  instructions. 

He  stood  tearfully  gazing  on  her  still 
beautiful  features,  when  she  once  more 
addressed  her  son. 

Fixing  her   eyes    already   dim    with    tha 


DEATH   OF   LEELINAU.  231 

film  of  death  upon  his,  she  murmured, 
"'Thy  word  giveth  light.'  I  am  glad  you 
told  me  of  my  Saviour.  My  soul  loves 
him." 

Her  gaze  became  fixed;  one,  two  long- 
drawn  sighs  and  her  spirit  obeyed  the 
call  of  the  Master  of  Life.  She  was  safe  ID 
the  Land  of  the  Bleat. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE    BURIAL. 

]T  the  decease  of  Letelesha,  de- 
scribed in  history  as  one  of  the 
most  mild  and  humane  chiefs  among 
the  western  tribes,  the  Pawnees  were 
not  so  far  advanced  in  civilization  as 
now.  The  news  of  his  death  called  to- 
gether all  his  braves  who  assembled  to 
wail  over  his  corpse. 

This  was  a  ceremony  which,  in  their 
opinion,  could  not  be  dispensed  with. 
When  the  heirs  of  the  deceased  could 
not  afford  to  hire  mourners,  the  duty  was 
performed  by  his  immediate  family  and 
friends.  These  lamentations  were  loud,  and 
were,  in  case  of  a  person  of  distinction  extend- 
ed for  weeks  beyond  the  interment. 

(232) 


THE    BURIAL.  233 

Letelesha  died  in  faith  that  Christ,  the 
Son  of  God,  had  pardoned  his  sins. 
Just  before  his  death,  when  his  son  Petalo- 
sharoo  was  listening  to  his  last  sighs,  the 
dying  man  said : 

"  Call  my  chiefs  together.  Their  mourning 
will  be  sincere.  If  they  wish  they  may 
bury  me  in  a  mound  according  to  our  an- 
cient custom.  Let  there  be  no  self  torture, 
nor  loud  wailing.  They  need  not  bury  food 
with  me.  My  soul  will  at  once  ascend  to 
the  Great  Spirit.  I  shall  walk  by  living 
fountains,  and  eat  fruit  from  the  tree  of 
life." 

In  every  respect  his  wishes  were  regard- 
ed as  sacred.  His  body,  dressed  in  the 
costume  he  wore  at  the  council  fires, 
was  first  wrapped  in  a  blanket,  and  then 
enclosed  in  skins  sewed  together  and  tied 
around  with  cords  of  grass.  When  the 
time  camo  for  conveying  it  to  the  mound, 


234  LEELIXAU. 

four  warriors,  the  oldest  in  the  tribe,  bora 
it  on  a  rude  litter,  followed  by  men, 
women  and  children,  to  its  last  resting- 
place,  where  it  was  reverently  laid  on  a 
mat  in  the  direction  of  east  and  west, 
to  await  the  call  of  the  great  trump, 
when  the  dead  in  Christ  shall  rise  first, 
from  every  kingdom  and  nation  under 
heaven,  to  meet  their  Lord  in  the  air. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  mound  and 
near  the  bodies  of  departed  chiefs  were 
poles  to  which  were  attached  brass  ket- 
tles, frying  pans,  baskets,  bowls,  sea-shells, 
bags  of  trinkets,  and  small  bones. 

These  utensils  were  placed  there  with 
food  in  them,  for  the  use  of  the  deceased 
during  their  journey  to  the  spirit-land, 
which  was  considered  a  long  and  danger- 
ous one.  The  ornaments  were  ofi'erings 
of  friendship  or  affection  for  the  dead. 

During  the  last  visit  of  Flying-leap,  he  was 


THE   BUBIAL.  235 

unwearied  in  his  efforts  to  enlighten  these 
darkened  minds,  and  rouse  them  from 
their  superstitions  to  the  worship  of  God 
in  Christ. 

The  efforts  of  Father  Greeny  also  had 
been  greatly  blessed.  We  are  told  by  histo- 
rians of  that  day,  that  after  the  death  of  the 
benign  Chief  whose  son  rescued  the  Itean 
captive,  there  was  no  other  attempt  to  im- 
molate a  human  victim.  It  is  certain  that 
from  this  time,  they  cultivated  the  arts 
of  civilization.  The  duties  of  cleanliness 
and  order  were  enjoined.  The  warriors 
turned  their  energies  to  hunting  wild 
beasts  instead  of  men,  and  by  the  sale 
of  the  skins  to  white  traders  increased 
their  own  wealth  and  social  enjoyments. 

But  to  return  from  our  digression.  The 
third  day  succeeding  Leelinau's  decease,  her 
funeral  was  appointed  to  take  place.  Ac- 
cording to  Petalesharoo's  request  Walling- 


236  LEELIXAU. 

ford  made  every  arrangement  for  the  burial. 
As  at  this  season  of  the  year  intercourse 
with  St.  Louis  was  almost  cut  off,  he  had 
a  box  or  coffin  made  and  stained  to  look 
like  rosewood.  If  he  could  have  obtained 
flowers,  he  would  have  strewed  them 
around  her;  but  now  he  could  only  pro- 
cure the  branches  of  the  sweet-scented 
pine  which  he  mingled  with  a  profusion 
of  red  waxy  berries  abundant  in  the  for- 
est, and  laid  them  about  the  coffin. 

With  Iva's  assistance  he  selected  a  dress 
of  soft  white  cloth  from  her  wardrobe ; 
and  he  allowed  Iva  to  intertwine  among 
her  tresses,  some  of  the  ornaments  she  had 
been  accustomed  to  wear. 

On  the  brow  of  the  peaceful  sleeper, 
there  had  settled  a  repose  so  sweet  and 
calm  that  many  who  had  turned  away  to 
weep  came  back  again  to  rejoice. 

Across     her     breast    lay     Edith's     tokon, 


THE    BURIAL.  237 

"Thy  word  giveth  light,"  little  thought  of 
when  she  wrought  it  with  loving  skill,  as  an 
ornament  for  the  dead.  There  it  lay,  giving 
the  answer  to  all  who  stood  and  wondered 
at  the  beautiful  serenity  which  had  taken 
the  place  of  Leelinau's  recent  darkness  and 
gloom. 

One  old  squaw  who  had  long  been  in 
Leelinau's  lodge,  came  the  day  before  the 
'nterment  to  weep  and  wail  by  herself. 

Unperceived  Wallingford  sat  in  the  cor- 
ner of  the  room,  where  with  the  deepest 
interest  he  watched  the  poor,  half  enlight- 
ened woman,  as  in  the  warmth  of  her  af- 
fection, she  bemoaned  the  dead  and  her 
own  loss. 

"  Leelinau,  sweet  princess,  fairer  than  the 
flowers  of  Spring,  why  have  you  left  us  ? 
We  wander  to  the  groves,  and  find  you 
not.  Why  did  you  leave  us  to  wander 
alone?  The  Land  of  the  Blest  ia  from 


238  LEELIXAU. 

East  to  West,  farther  from  one  end  to 
the  other,  than  the  hunting-grounds  of 
our  mighty  chiefs.  We  can  never  find 
you  ;  never,  never  !  " 

Here  the  wailing  was  protracted,  like  a 
child  in  deep  distress. 

Longing  to  address  a  word  of  comfort 
to  the  weeping  woman,  Wallingford  arose 
from  his  pile  of  mats  and  approached  the 
couch. 

The  squaw  instantly  wiped  her  eyes, 
and  pointing  to  the  unconscious  form,  said 
calmly : 

"  See,   she   sleeps." 

"Yes,  Wymtha.  God  giveth  his  beloved 
sleep  ;  but  she  will  wake  again  in  the 
morning  of  the  resurrection  when  Christ, 
her  King,  will  summon  all  those  who  have 
loved  him  on  earth,  and  who  have  tried 
to  obey  his  commands,  to  dwell  with  him 
forever  in  Paradise." 


THE    BURIAL.  239 

Near  the  grave  of  little  lona,  under  the 
leafless  branches  of  a  grand  old  tree  in 
that  boundless  forest,  a  resting-place  was 
now  prepared  for  the  princess,  Leelinau. 

The  day  appointed  for  the  burial  was 
cold  but  uncommonly  clear,  even  for  the 
month  of  November.  Before  nine  o'clock 
the  brave  men  and  warriors  began  to  as- 
semble ;  and  by  ten,  the  hour  appointed 
to  start  for  the  grave,  the  crowd  around 
the  lodge  was  dense. 

The  door  opened ;  and  the  coffin  was 
borne  out  by  four  young  warriors,  who 
took  their  places  at  each  corner  of  the 
litter  or  bier ;  and  then  every  man,  woman, 
and  child  present,  in  turn,  stopped  a  moment 
near  the  coffin  for  one  parting  glance  at 
the  face  of  the  dead. 

At  the  head  of  the  bier  stood  Walling- 
ford.  his  face  buried  in  his  handkerchief, 
his  head  covered  with  Letelesha's  well 


240  LEELDJAU. 

known  cap,  ornamented  with  Eagle  feath- 
ers. This  was  worn  to  show  that  he,  a 
pale-face,  honored  the  memory  of  his  grand- 
father, the  good  Chief. 

At  length  the  signal  for  starting  forward 
to  the  grave  was  given ;  and  Petalesharoo 
was  about  to  close  the  coffin,  when  Wall- 
mgford  bent  suddenly  forward,  and  pressed 
his  lips  on  the  marble  brow. 

"  Farewell,  Leelinau,"  he  murmured,  "  fare- 
well till  we  meet  in  heaven." 

Twelve  young  girls  advanced  in  front 
of  the  coffin,  and  took  their  places,  two 
and  two,  to  march  to  the  grave.  Direct- 
ly following  the  bier,  Wallingford  walked 
alone ;  after  him,  Petalesharoo  with  his 
bride  Iva.  Then  the  warriors  arranged  ac- 
cording to  their  rank ;  and  after  them  the 
younger  men,  women  and  children. 

The  moment  the  march  commenced,  the 
twelve  girls  began  their  chant,  which  they 


THE    BURIAL.  241 

repeated  over  ajid  over  in  their  own  lan- 
guage, till  they  reached  the  grave.  As 
nearly  as  they  can  be  interpreted,  I  will 
give  the  words  so  beautifully  rendered  by 
Schoolcraft.  The  song  purported  to  be  a 
call  from  Leelinau  to  those  she  left  be- 
hind, and  was  chanted  with  deep  feeling 
and  pathos : 

"I  have  found  those  happy  plains, 
Where   the   blessed   Spirit   reigns. 
Such   as   by   our  wise   men  old, 
All  our  fathers   have  foretold. 
Streams   of  sparkling  waters   flow, 
Pure   and   clear  with   silver   glow ; 
Woods   and  shady   groves   abound, 
Long,   sweet  lawns  and  painted  ground ; 
Lakes,   in   winding   shores   extend, 
Fruits  with   flowers   inviting  blend, 
While  throughout  the  greenwood  groves 
Gayest  birds   sing  out  their  loves. 
I  will  lead  you,   soul   of  love, 
To  those  flowery  haunts  above. 
Where  no  tears  or  pains   arc  found, 

16 


242  LEELINATJ. 

Where   no   war-cry   shakes   the   ground. 
Where   no   mother   hangs  her  head 
Crying :    '  Oh,   my   child   is   dead.' 
Death  is  not  admitted  here, 
Blue   the   skies  and   sweet  the   air. 
Hunger  is   not  here  a  guest, 
All   are   happy,   all   are  blest. 
Come   with   me   and  we   will   rove 
O'er   those   endless   plains   of  love, 
Full   of  flowers,   gems   and  gold, 
Where   there   is   no   heart   that's  cold; 
Where   there  is   no   tear  to   dry 
In   a   single  human   eye. 
Follow  me  to  Christ   our  Prince; 
Christ  but  opes   the   door  to  bliss. 

On  reaching  the  open  grave  the  chant- 
ing ceased;  and  Father  Greeny  taking  a 
Bible  from  his  pocket  read  the  solemn 
words ;  "  For  as  in  Adam  all  die,  even  so 
in  Chi'ist  shall  all  be  made  alive."  "Behold, 
I  show  you  a  mystery :  We  shall  not  all 
sleep,  but  we  shall  all  be  changed,  in  a 
moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  at 


TUB   BURIAL.  243 

the  last  trump :  for  the  trumpet  shall  sound, 
and  the  dead  shall  be  raised  incorrupti- 
ble." "I  am  the  resurrection,  and  the  life: 
he  that  believeth  in  me,  though  he  were 
dead,  yet  shall  he  live." 

All  stood  silent.  Every  eye  was  fixed 
on  the  familiar  countenance  of  the  priest, 
as  he  closed  the  book  and  raised  his  hands 
in  prayer  to  the  great  Master  of  Life. 

Though  there  were  some  present  who 
had  never  engaged  in  prayer,  yet  even 
the  children  knew  of  the  Great  Spirit,  and 
realized  the  solemnity  of  the  act.  They 
listened,  therefore,  in  reverent  silence  until 
the  service  ended. 

Then  came  the  solemn  sound  of  the 
earth  on  the  coffin,  which  had  been  rev- 
erently lowered  into  the  grave,  and  the 
words  from  Father  Greeny: 

"Ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust,"  after 
which  the  crowd  stood  quiet  until  the 


244  LEELDfAU. 

grave  was  filled,  and  the  earth  piled 
over  it  in  a  low  mound. 

Petalesharoo  then  lifted  his  eyes  from  the 
ground,  and  glancing  over  the  assembled 
warriors,  said  in  a  clear  voice,  in  his  na- 
tive language : 

"  Leelinau,  our  sister  has  gone  from  our 
sight.  Our  hearts  grieve  for  ourselves.  We 
cannot  grieve  for  her.  She  is  safe  with 
Jesus  whom  she  loved. 

"  Leelinau  our  sister  is  not  here,  she  is 
risen." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

SUSPICION  OP  FRAUD. 

HE  last  day  of  the  old  year  had 
faded  out,  and  the  first  day  of  the 
new  year  was  ushered  in  by  the 
ringing  of  bells,  glad  shouts  of  welcome, 
and  in  many  of  the  churches  in  the  city 
of  Savannah,  by  a  hymn  of  praise  to  the 
Creator. 

New  Year's  Day  was  a  festival;  and 
our  friends  the  Colchesters  had  been  in- 
vited to  spend  it  at  Mr.  Cahill's.  At  an 
early  hour  a  carriage  drew  up  before  the 
door  of  Mr.  Colchester's  house,  for  near 
as  it  was,  the  gentleman  was  too  feeble 
to  walk ;  and  Warner  assisted  his  master 
to  enter  it.  A  few  moments  more  and 

(MS) 


246  LEELIXAIT. 

the  party,  having  arrived  at  the  Rectory, 
were  engaged  iu  lively  conversation. 

"  It  is  very  strange  we  hear  nothing 
from  Mr.  Wallingford,"  remarked  the  Rec- 
tor, fixing  a  searching  gaze  on  Edith. 

Mrs.  Cahill  had  just  been  remarking  on 
the  young  lady's  pale  cheeks;  but  at  this 
mention  of  her  friend's  name  she  grew 
paler  still. 

"  Have  you  received  an  answer  to  your 
letter,  Edith?  —  the  one,  I  mean,  you  sent 
with  mine?" 

A  faintly  murmured,  "No,  sir,"  was  her 
only  answer. 

"  Come  with  me,  my  dear,"  said  the 
Rector,  giving  Edith  his  arm,  and  leading 
the  way  to  the  study. 

"Now,"  he  added,  seating  her  near  him 
and  patting  her  hand  just  as  he  did  Nora's, 
"  you  must  treat  me  with  the  frankness 
of  a  child  talking  to  her  father.  My  wife 


SUSPICION   OF   FRAUD.  247 

has  been  fretting  over  your  pallid  cheeks. 
She  insists  that  you  are  growing  thin 
and  that  you  work  too  hard.  I  say  noth- 
ing; but  I  suspect  there  is  something 
amiss.  Tell  me  truly,  my  dear,  has  Walling- 
ford  trifled  with  your  affections  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  sir !  no,  indeed  !  "  Vivid  blushes 
took  the  place  of  Edith's  pallor.  She 
quickly  hid  her  face  in  her  hands,  re- 
peating vehemently,  "  No,  sir.  Oh,  how 
could  you  think  that  ?  " 

"  I  see  I  was  at  fault,  my  dear."  His 
tone  was  puzzled  and  anxious,  as  he  add- 
ed, "but  what  does  he  mean  by  delaying 
to  write?" 

A  burst  of  tears  relieved  the  poor 
girl's  overburdened  heart. 

"  He  was  in  danger,"  she  faltered.  "  I 
cannot  say  more." 

"  But  you  must,  my  child.  You  must 
tell  me  all.  There,  don't  cry !  and  keep 


248  LEELINAU. 

your  griefs  shut  up  in  your  own  heart. 
I  love  "Wallingford  as  if  he  were  a  brother, 
and  if  he  is  in  trouble,  I  will  get  some- 
body to  take  the  charge  of  my  parish, 
and  go  in  search  of  him;  but  you  must 
tell  me  all." 

She  only  shook  her  head,  her  whole 
form  convulsed  with  sobs.  For  several 
weeks  after  receiving  the  journal  she  look- 
ed daily  for  farther  tidings,  but  failing  to 
receive  them  the  idea  of  Mr.  Wallingford's 
danger  from  the  Pawnees  gradually  took 
possession  of  her  mind. 

This  idea  haunted  her  all  day ;  and  she 
only  shut  her  eyes  at  night  to  dream  of 
tomahawks  and  scalping  knives.  Anxious 
to  conceal  from  her  father  that  she  was 
suffering,  she  feigned  a  gayety,  that  was 
not  at  all  natural  to  her.  While  in  his 
presence,  she  talked,  laughed  and  sang 
more  than  usual;  but  when  alone  in  her 


SUSPICION  OF  FRAUD.  249 

chamber  the  oppression  upon  her  spirits 
was  almost  more  than  she  could  endure. 

In  vain  she  sought  to  rouse  herself  by 
the  reflection,  "  He  has  never  sought  my 
love."  But  though  it  was  true  that  he 
had  not  done  so  in  words,  the  tones  of 
his  voice,  the  winning  softness  of  his 
manner,  the  pleading  earnestness  of  his 
eye  told  a  tale  which  found  its  echo  in 
her  own  heart. 

In  vain  pride  suggested,  "shame!  shame! 
to  bestow  your  affections  unsought,"  love 
urged  a  stronger  claim,  "  the  terror  of 
death  to  the  beloved  one." 

It  is  not  strange  then  that  the  ques- 
tions of  Mr.  Cahill  should  open  the  sluice- 
ways of  grief.  Nor  that  when  once 
opened  a  torrent  poured  forth  not  easy  to 
check. 

Edith's  sobs  soon  grew  so  violent  that 
the  Rector  became  alarmed,  and  after  trying 


250  LEELINATT. 

in  vain  to  soothe  her,  started  to  go  in  search 
of  his  wife. 

The  weeping  girl  clutched  his  hand,  ex- 
claiming :  "  Don't  leave  me !  I  shall  be 
better  soon." 

He  brought  from  the  closet  a  bowl  of 
water,  dipped  a  napkin  in  it,  and  gave  it 
to  her  to  bathe  her  flushed  face,  standing 
quietly  by  until  she  could  recover  her  self 
command. 

This  she  did  to  his  great  relief  much 
sooner  than  he  expected.  "  You  are  very 
kind,"  she  said  at  last.  "  I  can  only  say 
in  return,  that  it  gives  me  less  pain  to 
have  you  the  witness  of  such  a  scene 
than  any  one  in  the  world.  If  my  father 
even  suspected  my  anxiety,  it  would  kill 
him.  I  do  not  often  indulge  in  the  lux- 
ury of  tears." 

"  I  hope  they  will  relieve  you,  my  poor 
girl;  but  we  wont  talk  about  it  now. 


SUSPICION   OP  FRAUD.  251 

Some  other  time  you  will  tell  me  con- 
cerning him." 

"  Never,  sir ;  and  if  you  really  feel  a 
father's  interest  in  me,  you  will  forget 
what  has  just  occurred.  I  am  going  to 
put  on  my  hat  and  shawl,  and  go  home 
for  an  hour,  or  two.  I  will  meet  you  at 
dinner." 

When  Mr.  Cahill  returned  to  the  parlor, 
he  found  Mr.  Colchester  greatly  excited 
over  the  contents  of  a  letter  Warner  had 
just  brought  him  from  the  Post  office. 

"  Where  is  Edith  ?  "  he  asked  hurriedly. 
"I  thought  my  daughter  with  you." 

"  She  had  on  her  hat  when  I  last  saw 
her,"  was  the  Rector's  cool  reply.  Re- 
flecting that  the  young  lady  had  suffered 
too  much  from  excitement,  he  resolved  to 
give  her  time  to  recover  her  composure; 
"  but,"  he  added,  "  I  have  no  doubt  she 
will  be  here  before  dinner." 


252  LEELIXAU. 

"You  have  been  a  true  friend,  Mr.  Ca* 
hill,"  urged  Mr.  Colchester ;  "  and  if  yon 
do  not  object  to  listen  to  a  sad  story,  I 
can  foresee  your  counsel  will  be  a  great 
blessing  in  this  emergency." 

"  Come   with  me   to   my    study  then." 

The  Rector  drew  forward  for  his  guest 
the  chair  Edith  had  just  vacated,  wonder- 
ing as  he  did  so  what  the  doating,  silver- 
haired  father  would  say,  could  he  know 
what  had  just  occurred  in  that  room. 

"You  are  already  aware  that  I  am  a 
native  of  Lancastershire,  England,"  Mr.  Col- 
chester began,  folding  the  letter  he  had 
received,  and  putting  it  carefully  into  his 
pocket.  "I  have  now  to  unfold  to  you 
a  plot  of  fraud  and  conspiracy  such  as, 
for  the  sake  of  humanity,  one  would  hope 
is  seldom  consummated. 

"  I  can  only  give  you  the  facts  in 
brie£ 


SUSPICION  OP  FRAUD.  253 

"I  was  the  second  son  of  Sir  Randall 
Colchester,  a  man  beloved  for  bis  benevo- 
lence, and  respected  on  account  of  his 
wealth  and  rank.  Being  only  eleveu 
months  the  junior  of  my  brother,  I  was 
not  privileged  to  receive  the  personal  care 
of  my  mother.  I  was  brought  up  by  one 
of  my  father's  tenants,  until  at  the  age 
of  four  years,  I  was  adopted  by  my  uncle, 
Lord  Dexter  Colchester,  with  the  promise 
of  being  his  heir. 

"  My  childhood  and  youth  passed  happily 
away.  I  was  entered  at  Cambridge  in  my 
eighteenth  year,  and  after  my  graduation 
spent  several  years  in  travelling.  It  was 
only  at  long  intervals  that  I  visited  my 
parents  who  lived  at  a  distance  from  my 
uncle ;  and  thus  when  repeated  afflictions 
visited  my  family,  I  did  not  feel  the  loss 
of  my  relatives  as  I  should  have  done 
had  the  intercourse  been  more  frequent. 


254  LEELINAU. 

Indeed  I  scarcely  knew  more  than  the 
names  of  my  younger  brother  and  sister, 
and  felt  only  the  ordinary  degree  of  in- 
terest when  told  that,  by  the  terms  of 
my  father's  will,  his  property  which  was 
not  entailed,  reverted  in  equal  shares  to 
the  younger  branches  of  the  family.  I 
was  considered  as  fully  provided  for  by 
the  arrangements  my  uncle  had  consum- 
mated soon  after  I  was  received  into  his 
family. 

"  Being  in  Egypt  with  a  party  of  trav- 
ellers, I  did  not  receive  intelligence  of  my 
father's  decease,  which  closely  succeeded 
that  of  my  mother,  until  a  considerable 
time  had  passed. 

"  Six  months  later  a  letter  from  Warner, 
my  uncle's  valet  and  always  my  faithful 
friend,  apprized  me  of  his  failing  health, 
earnestly  entreating  me  to  return  home 
without  delay. 


SUSPICION  OP  FRAUD.  255 

"I  took  the  next  steamer  to  Constanti- 
nople, and  then  journeyed  toward  England 
without  an  hour's  unnecessary  delay. 

"  It  was  true  that  Lord  Dexter  was 
feeble ;  but  I  saw  nothing  in  his  state  to 
excite  immediate  alarm.  I  was  glad  indeed 
to  be  with  him,  for  I  saw  that  my  socie- 
ty gave  pleasure  to  him  and  to  my  aunt. 

"  Toward  me  they  had  ever  exhibited 
the  affection  of  loving-  parents,  while  I 
regarded  them  as  a  dutiful  son  ever  does 
the  beings  to  whom  he  owes  his  exist- 
ence. 

'•  I  had  only  been  at  home  a  day  or 
two,  before  Warner,  my  uncle's  valet  de 
chambre,  sought  me  in  my  room,  and  care- 
fully bolting  the  door  gave  me  to  under- 
stand that  he  had  a  communication  for  my 
private  ear. 

"  I  listened  with  due  attention,  but  when 
he  had  finished  laughed  in  his  face. 


256  LEELIXAU. 

"'And  is  this,'  I  enquired,  'the  cause 
of  your  summoning  me  to  England  with 
the  speed  of  lightning  ?  I  expected  to 
find  my  uncle  very  low,  and  am  so  re- 
lieved by  his  state  of  health  that  were  I 
not  expecting  the  friends  with  whom  I 
have  been  travelling,  on  a  visit  to  York- 
shire, I  should  return  at  once  to  Syria.' 

" '  It  is  well  you  are  intending  to  re- 
main,' he  said,  in  the  most  impressive 
tone ;  'for  I  do  solemnly  assure  you  Mr. 
Dexter,  ( I  was  named  for  my  uncle,)  that 
there  has  been  foul  play  during  your 
absence.' 

" '  What   do  you  mean  Warner?' 

"'I  mean  that  your  cousin,  Mr.  Giles 
Colchester,  is  resolved  to  supplant  you, 
and  become  the  heir  to  my  lord's  estates. 
He  has  hired  a  cottage  near  the  park- 
gates,  and  has  so  insinuated  himself  into 
the  good  graces  of  my  lord  that  you 


SUSPICION    OF   FRAUD.  257 

not  find  it  easy  to  enlighten  my  mas- 
ter as  to  his  true  character.  His  under 
valet  too  is  a  man  I  distrust.' 

"  I  laughed  he<y  tiiy  «,i  iny  humble 
friend. 

" '  Your  attachment  to  me  has  made  you 
suspicious  of  my  cousin/  I  said.  '  I  al- 
ways liked  Giles ;  and  there  is  no  reason, 
my  uncle  should  not  enjoy  his  nephew's 
attentions.' 

"  Warner  could  not  be  beaten  from  his 
conviction  of  foul  play,  and  grew  almost 
angry  with  me  for  treating  the  danger 
to  my  own  interests  so  lightly.  But  I 
was  not  naturally  suspicious,  and  there 
was  another  reason  why  his  confidences 
did  not  depress  me." 


CHAPTER  XXT. 

YEARS   OF  HAPPINESS. 


OR  fourteen  months  I  had  travelled 
with  a  party  of  ray  own  country- 
men, among  whom  was  a  Colonel 


retired  from  her  Majesty's  service.  His 
name  was  Esterbrook,  and  he  had  a  daugh- 
ter who  was  my  beau  ideal  of  womanly 
excellence.  I  had  watched  her,  studied 
her  character  until  I  was  satisfied  that 
she  would  make  me  happy ;  and  I  resolved 
to  use  every  endeavor  to  render  her  so, 
should  she  consent  to  be  mine.  Just  be- 
fore Warner's  summons  reached  m^  I  had 
received  from  her  own  lips  the  assurance 
of  her  respect  and  affection.  This  with 
the  approbation  of  Colonel  Esterbrook 

(258) 


YEARS   OF   HAPPINESS.  259 

completed  iny  happiness.  You  can  there- 
fore easily  imagine  that  I  had  far  pleas- 
anter  reflections  to  occupy  my  mind  than 
those  suggested  by  my  friend  Warner, 
and  that  after  I  left  his  presence,  his 
warnings  were  scarcely  remembered. 

"  Still  they  did  recur  to  me  upon  re- 
ceiving an  early  call  from  Giles  and  his 
wife ;  a  lady  I  had  never  before  met, 
and  who,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  impressed 
me  most  unfavorably  even  during  this 
first  interview. 

"Nothing  could  bo  more  apparently  cor- 
dial  than  my  cousin's  manner  of  welcoming 
me;  every  sentiment  of  pleasure  being 
echoed  and  re-echoed  by  Mrs.  Giles.  Af- 
terwards in  calling  to  mind  what  had 
passed,  it  occurred  to  me  they  said  too 
much.  Nothing  in  our  former  intercourse 
led  me  to  expect  such  a  sudden  warmth 
and  interest  in  my  affairs. 


260  LEELDfAU. 

"It  was  my  intention  to  confide  at  onco 
to  my  uncle  and  aunt  the  happiness  in 
store  for  me.  They  laughed  at  my  en- 
thusiasm, called  my  description  of  my 
Edith  extravagant,  savoring  more  of  angel- 
ic perfection  than  of  erring  humanity,  but 
ended  by  cordially  giving  their  consent, 
and  urging  my  immediate  union. 

" '  Bring  her  to  the  Park,'  said  my  uncle, 
'  and  her  father  shall  have  a  welcome  too. 
I  have  long  wished  for  a  daughter,  and 
if  your  Edith  is  half  as  lovely  as  you 
imagine,  I  shall  like  her  famously.' 

"  The  next  morning  my  uncle  summoned 
me  to  the  library,  a  large,  gloomy  apart- 
ment where  he  kept  his  papers  and  trans- 
acted all  his  business  with  his  tenants. 

"'When  may  we  expect  your  queen  of 
perfection,'  he  asked  gayly.  'I  have  been 
consulting  the  war  reports  and  find  her 
father  sustains  a  good  character  for  brav- 


TEAE3   OP   HAPPINESS.  261 

ery.  There  is  no  stain  on  his  record.  I 
wouldn't  like  my  name  to  be  linked  with 
one  under  a  suspicion,  even,  of  wrong 
doing.  So  you  have  my  best  wishes 
for  your  prosperity.  There  are  some  ex- 
tra expenses  attending  nuptials ;  and  I 
have  drawn  you  a  check  over  and  above 
your  usual  allowance.  As  for  the  rest 
you  may  tell  Colonel  Esterbrook  that  every 
thing  I  have,  goes  to  you  when  I  am 
done  with  it.  You  will  not  have  to  wait 
long.'  The  last  words  were  pronounced 
with  some  bitterness. 

" '  Uncle  Dexter,  my  father,  the  only 
father  I  have  known ! '  I  exclaimed  seizing 
his  hand  in  great  distress.  'Do  not  say 
such  words  in  such  a  tone.  You  have 
been  so  generous,  so  noble  in  all  your 
dealings  with  me  that  I  do  not  need  this/ 
trying  to  put  the  paper  back  into  hia 
hand.  'I  have  never  lived  up  to  my  in- 


262  LEELIXAU. 

come ;  and  there  is  quite  a  fortune  lying 
to  my  credit  at  your  bankers'.  Oh,  un- 
cle-, you  cannot  suspect  that  I  am  impa- 
tient to  undertake  the  responsibilities  of 
a  wealthy  landholder !  If  you  will  indeed 
allow  Edith  to  come  here,  we  will  devote 
ourselves  so  wholly  to  your  comfort  and 
that  of  my  aunt  that  we  shall  cheat  time 
of  his  prey,  and,  God  willing,  keep  you 
far  beyond  the  threescore  years  and  ten.' 

"  My  eyes  were  fixed  full  on  his,  as 
I  uttered  these  words  in  an  impassioned 
tone,  and  after  regarding  me  a  moment 
in  silence,  he  said  with  emotion: 

" '  I  believe  you,  Dexter.  I  fully  be- 
lieve you.  My  death  would  speedily  follow 
the  thought  that  instead  of  a  son  I  had 
nursed  a  viper  in  my  bosom,  who  would 
turn  and  sting  the  hand  that  fed  him.' 

"  These    words,    coming   from    my    uncle 
overwhelmed   me    with   distress. 


YEARS   OF   HAPPINESS.  2G3 

"'Uncle/  I  said  rising  from  my  seat 
and  standing  erect  before  him,  '  if  I  had 
ever,  even  in  thought,  given  you  occasion 
for  such  cutting  sarcasm,  I  should  sink 
to  the  earth  and  cover  my  head  with 
shame ;  but  God  who  sees  my  heart, 
knows  I  have  always  loved  you  as  a 
tenderly  nurtured  child  loves  the  hand  who 
has  ministered  to  his  wants.  Above  all 
others  you  have  been  my  standard  of  man- 
ly perfection.  I  wish  I  could  bare  my 
heart  to  your  view  that  you  might  see 
my  secret  thoughts.  How  have  I  deserved 
such  words  from  your  lips  ? ' 

"  He  looked  profoundly  moved  but  did  not 
answer;  and  after  a  moment  I  thrust  the 
paper  into  his  hand  and  rushed  from  the 
room.  "When  I  left  my  aunt,  an  hour 
before,  how  happy  I  was,  secure  of  the 
confidence  of  my  beloved  relatives,  and  now 
how  quickly  clouds  had  overcast  my  sky. 


264:  LEELINAU. 

"I  wanted  to  be  alone  where  I  could 
breathe  more  freely.  I  had  a  tightening 
of  the  throat  and  lungs  which  I  must 
get  rid  of  before  I  met  any  one. 

"  Back  of  the  house  was  a  wide  gravel 
walk  which  led  off  through  a  plot  of 
flowers  to  a  thick  grove,  and  thither  I 
hurried  to  reflect  on  what  had  passed. 
After  half  an  hour  I  had  come  to  the 
conclusion,  '  Some  enemy  has  poisoned 
my  uncle's  mind,'  when  I  heard  a  step 
stealthily  approaching  from  the  house  and 
coming  directly  toward  me.  I  instinctively 
drew  back  behind  a  huge  tree  and  watch- 
ed the  intruder. 

"  It  was  Mr.  Giles  Colchester,  and  if 
ever  guilt  was  stamped  on  a  man's  face, 
it  was  written  on  his. 

"  Occasionally  glancing  behind  him,  as 
if  fearing  some  one  from  the  house  would 
recognize  him,  he  came  stealthily  on, 


TEARS    OF   HAPPINESS.  265 

passing  within  twenty  feet  of  the  spot 
where  I  stood  concealed,  and  on  through 
the  grove  by  an  unfrequented  path  to 
his  cottage. 

" '  Warner  was  right/  was  my  inward 
ejaculation.  '  There  is  foul  play ;  and  I 
am  the  destined  victim.' 

"  I  went  to  the  stable,  and  ordering 
the  hostler  to  saddle  my  own  horse,  1 
dashed  off  at  my  utmost  speed,  trying  in 
this  way  to  quell  the  excitement  of  my 
brain. 

"  "When  at  the  expiration  of  seven 
hours  I  returned,  I  found  the  whole  house 
in  alarm  concerning  my  safety. 

"  Warner  hurried  me  off  to  my  aunt's 
private  boudoir,  where  I  found  her  weep- 
ing over  a  packet  of  letters  I  had  sent 
home  from  Eton.  By  these  childish  epistles 
as  well  as  those  of  later  years,  she  had 
been  convincing  my  uncle  that  I  had  ai« 


266  LEELIXAU. 

ways  been  open,  frank  and  ingenuous, 
She  reminded  him  of  the  professions  of 
religion  I  had  made ;  and  asked  where 
was  the  motive  to  such  base  conduct  as 
Giles  had  imputed  to  me. 

"My  absence  of  several  hours  had  given 
him  time  to  reflect  on  the  improbability 
of  my  speculating  with  the  Jews  on  the 
possibility  of  his  decease,  a  habit  he 
specially  abhorred ;  and  on  my  entrance  he 
folded  me  to  his  heart  with  the  fervor 
of  a  father's  love. 

"He  frankly  asked  me  to  forget  what 
had  passed ;  and  I  readily  promised  to  do 
so  on  one  condition.  I  insisted  upon 
knowing  who  was  my  enemy,  and  my 
entreaties  added  to  my  aunt's  prevailed. 

"  Ever  since  Giles'  settlement  in  the 
cottage,  he  had  by  various  hints  and  in- 
ueudoes  endeavored  to  lessen  my  uncle's 
confidence  in  me.  My  uncle  suspected 


YEAE3   OP   HAPPINESS.  267 

that  my  sudden  return  made  him  fear 
for  the  success  of  his  plot,  and  this  was 
what  had  led  him  the  day  succeeding  my 
return  to  visit  the  library,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  communicating  some  disagreeable 
facts  as  he  called  them  in  reference  to 
myself. 

"  These  Lord  Dexter  Colchester  indig- 
nantly denied;  but  the  poison  of  suspicion 
having  entered  his  mind,  had  betrayed  it- 
self against  his  intention  in  his  conversa- 
tion with  me.  For  these  suspicions  my 
uncle  declared  he  could  never  forgive 
himself.  My  aunt  tearfully  added: 

" '  No,  we  know  Dexter  too  well  to  sus- 
pect him  of  such  shameful  practices.' 

"  I  denied  the  whole  in  toto,  offering  to 
bring  proof  of  my  economy  while  abroad, 
and  of  the  uniform  correctness  of  my 
habits ;  but  my  uncle  would  not  allow  me  to 
degrade  myself  or  him,  by  proofs  of  what 


268  LEELIXATT. 

he  was  already  convinced  was  a  tissue  of 
slander.  Once  more,  be  offered  me  the 
check;  but  in  this  I  could  not  oblige 
him;  and  in  my  presence  the  check  for 
five  thousand  pounds  was  thrown  into  the 
flames.  A  similar  check  was  afterwards 
given  to  my  Edith  on  her  wedding  day. 
So  ended  the  first  and  Jast  difference  be- 
tween my  kind  uncle  and  myself. 

"In  due  time  Edith  Esterbrook  returned 
to  her  native  country,  which  event  was 
followed  within  six  months  by  our  mar- 
riage and  her  removal  to  the  Park. 

"  Before  this,  however,  Giles  with  his 
wife  and  two  children,  a  son  Melville  and 
a  daughter  Mildred,  took  a  sudden  leave 
of  the  cottage  they  had  leased  for  a  term 
of  years,  and  the  next  I  heard  of  them 
they  were  on  the  continent. 

"Ten  years   of    calm  happiness   followed. 


TEARS   OF  HAPPINESS.  260 

My  uncle  and  aunt,  under  Edith's  tender 
care,  ripened  into  a  green  old  age,  often 
remarking  that  I  had  richly  repaid  all 
they  had  ever  done  for  me  by  bringing 
them  a  daughter  to  bo  the  comfort  of 
their  declining  years. 

"  In  the  mean  time  three  children  were 
born  to  us,  but  only  one,  my  daughter 
Edith,  survived  infancy.  Upon  this  one 
the  hearts  of  the  aged  people  were  set 
in  a  most  unusual  manner.  They  were  so 
fondly  proud  of  her  I  auty  and  talents, 
her  quick  wit  and  her  amiable  disposition 
that  had  it  not  been  for  the  judicious 
training  of  her  mother  she  might  have 
become  proud  and  selfish. 

"I  had  studied  law,  but  occupied  myself 
at  my  uncle  solicitations  in  attending  to 
his  business.  I  had  never  practised,  except 
in  my  duties  as  Justice  of  the  Peace. 

"  In  every   particular    my   uncle    consult- 


270  LEELINAU. 

ed  my  judgment  in    reference  to  his  pel* 
sonal   estates.     Repeatedly   he   said: 

"  •  Dexter,  I  wish  you  to  manage  every- 
thing as  if  it  were  already  your  own. 
Should  I  be  taken  before  my  wife,  I  feel 
entire  confidence  in  leaving  her  to  Edith's 
tender  care.  She  has,  as  you  know,  a 
handsome  jointure  which  she  has  settled 
on  your  wife.  Everything  that  I  leave  is 
willed  to  you.'" 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE    CHASTENING    ROD. 

blow  came  at  last.  My  uncle, 
full  of  years,  and  ripe  in  Christian 
faith  and  hope,  died  suddenly  in 
consequence  of  a  severe  cold  on  his 
lungs. 

"  A  few  hours  before  his  death  his 
physician  assured  him  he  could  not  sur- 
vive the  day,  adding,  '  if  there  is  any 
preparation  you  have  to  make  you  had 
better  attend  to  it  at  once.' 

"  Clasping  my  hand  as  I  was  bending 
over  him,  he  said,  speaking  with  great 
difficulty :  '  My  duties  of  a  pecuniary  na- 
ture have  not  been  postponed  to  my  dying 
hour,'  then  glancing  toward  my  wife  with 
a  gazo  of  deep  affection,  added: 

(271) 


272  LEELINAU. 

" '  You  have  richly  merited  all  I  have 
given  you.' 

"  The  afternoon  succeeding  the  funeral 
was  the  time  appointed  for  reading  the 
will.  I  was  rather  surprised  as  I  attended 
my  aunt  below,  to  see  Mr.  Giles  Colches- 
ter in  earnest  debate  with  Mr.  Goldsbor- 
ough,  my  uncle's  attorney,  whose  duty  it 
was  to  read  the  will.  I  received  him, 
however,  with  sufficient  cordiality  to  show 
that  I  remembered  my  duty  as  a  host. 

"We  took  our  seats,  my  aunt  very  much 
broken  by  grief  supporting  herself  against 
Edith,  while  I  stood  back  from  the  rest, 
leaning  on  the  mantel.  I  was  calm,  sup- 
posing myself  to  be  perfectly  acquainted 
with  the  provisions  of  the  will,  but  my 
grief  at  the  loss  of  my  uncle  outweighing 
far  the  pleasure  accruing  from  the  acces- 
sion of  wealth  or  rank. 

"Judge,   then,    of    my    surprise   when    I 


THE   CHASTENING   ROD.  273 

found  that  with  the  exception  of  twenty 
thousand  pounds  given  to  me,  every  dol- 
lar of  my  uncle's  property,  stocks,  real 
estate  and  title  were  bequeathed  to  his 
beloved  nephew  Giles  Colchester,  to  be  held 
by  him  in  trust  for  his  children  Melville 
and  Mildred.  With  the  title,  and  the  Park, 
two  thirds  of  the  entire  property  went,  af- 
ter Giles'  decease,  to  the  son,  the  remain- 
der to  the  daughter. 

"  At  first  I  was  stunned  with  the  dis- 
appointment; but  this  feeling  was  presently 
absorbed  in  one  bitter  reflection,  'my  un- 
cle, my  good,  kind  uncle,  has  deceived 
me.'  I  went  out  from  that  room  crushed 
with  the  weight  of  years,  and  shutting  my- 
self into  my  chamber,  for  hours  I  refused 
admittance  to  all. 

"  At  last  a  loud,  imperative  call  summoned 
me  to  my  aunt's  apartment. 

"Though   feeble  in  body,   her  intellectual 


274  LEELINAU. 

faculties  were  unimpaired :  and  no  sooner 
did  she  hear  the  will,  so  different  from 
what  she  had  been  led  to  expect,  than  she 
agreed  with  Warner  that  there  had  been 
foul  play,  and  that  O'Neil  was  complicated 
in  it." 

Mr.  Colchester  paused  and  covered  his 
face.  "  I  cannot,  I  need  not  enlarge  at  this 
point.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  Giles 
was  arrogant,  haughty  and  triumphant. 
Regard  for  public  opinion  alone  prevent- 
ed him  from  turning  my  aunt  from  her 
home ;  but  he  removed  from  her  all  that 
made  life  desirable,  and  she  soon  sank  into 
her  grave. 

"  I  was  earnestly  advised  to  contest  the 
will,  and  did  not  cease  to  do  so  until  every 
pound  of  my  legacy  was  swallowed  up. 
I  pursued  my  adversary  with  a  bitterness, 
that,  now  as  I  reflect  upon  it,  seems  like 
insanity.  Every  servant  at  the  Park  with 


THE   CHASTENING   ROD.  275 

one  exception,  had  been  dismissed ;  and 
there  were  facts  brought  to  light  at  the 
trial,  that  served  to  fasten  suspicion  on 
the  name  of  the  new  Lord.  For  instance, 
the  man  who  had  been  retained  in  Lord 
Giles  Colchester's  employ,  was  a  valet  de 
chambre  of  my  uncle,  who  had  applied  for 
the  place  during  a  •  temporary  illness  of 
Warner,  and  who  made  himself  so  indis- 
pensable to  the  old  gentleman,  that  he  was 
retained  till  his  death. 

"  Warner,  as  I  have  before  mentioned, 
always  suspected  him  of  being  a  villain, 
and  took  no  great  pains  to  disguise  his 
sentiments.  The  day  before  the  funeral, 
the  valet,  whose  name  was  O'Neil,  was 
very  impertinent  in  his  answer  to  me, 
which  I,-  absorbed  in  grief,  scarcely  noticed ; 
but  Warner  gave  him  a  severe  reproof, 
intimating  that  it  was  well  for  him  to  un- 
derstand who  was  now  his  master. 


276  LEELINAU. 

"  "With  a  sneer  O'Neil  answered,  '  Mr. 
Dexter  will  never  be  master  here.' 

" '  Why  not  ?  '  shouted  "Warner,  forget- 
ting himself  in  his  fury. 

" '  Because,'  answered  the  valet,  with  a 
significant  shrug,  '  Mr.  Giles  is  to  be  the 
new  Lord.' 

"  This  testimony  went  to  prove  that  the 
servant,  and  therefore  his  master  were 
acquainted  with  tho>  contents  of  the  will. 

"  Meanwhile  Giles  sperit  his  newly  ac- 
quired wealth,  as  if  he  thought  there  could 
be  no  end  to  it.  He  tore  down  a  part  of 
my  uncle's  house,  and  rebuilt  it  in  the 
most  extravagant  style.  Mrs.  Colchester 
decked  herself  in  jewels  far  better  fitted  for 
a  crowned  head  than  for  her.  Melville,  at 
this  time  near  seventeen  years  of  age,  was 
sent  to  Halle  to  complete  his  education, 
while  for  his  sister,  two  years  younger, 
the  most  expensive  tutors  were  employed. 


THE   CHASTENING   ROD.  277 

"  The  first  affliction  that  befel  them  was 
the  death  of  Mildred.  She  was  drowned 
in  a  small  lake  near  the  Park,  within  a 
hundred  rods  of  the  house. 

"  It  would  have  been  happy  for  me,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Colchester,  with  a  heavy  sigh, 
''  had  I  consented  at  once  to  leave  Yorkshire 
for  a  residence  on  the  continent.  My  wife 
warmly  urged  this  course ;  but  I  was  in- 
sane —  a  monomaniac,  call  it  what  you 
please, — on  the  subject  of  my  uncle's  will. 
Probably  Warner's  presence,  and  unavailing 
regrets  aggravated  the  evil,  by  keeping  the 
idea  of  conspiracy  constantly  before  my 
mind.  We  lived  only  two  miles  from  the 
Park,  and  therefore  were  continually  learn- 
ing  of  the  extravagance  of  the  new  occu- 
pants. 

"  I  had  been  to  London  on  one  occasion, 
and  returning  met  Melville  coming  out  of 
my  house.  Edith,  then  a  child  of  ten 


278  LEELIXAU. 

years,  stood  at  the  door,  smilingly  bidding 
her  cousin  adieu.  I  passed  him  with  a 
chilling  bow,  and  entered  the  parlor  with- 
out speaking. 

"'Who  invited  Melville  here?'  I  a^ked 
sharply,  '  and  who  brought  these  flowers  ?  ' 
I  added  as  my  eye  fell  on  a  beautiful 
bouquet  of  familiar  blossoms. 

"Edith  came  toward  me,  and  seizing 
my  hands,  gazed  wistfully  in  my  face,  aa 
she  answered : 

"  Melville   brought   them,   papa." 

" '  Melville  is  wholly  unlike  his  father/ 
plead  my  wife.  '  He  begged  for  the  priv- 
ilege of  coming  hero  occasionally  during 
his  vacation;  ho  is  so  unhappy  at  home.' 

" '  And   what  did   you   say  ?  ' 

"'I  gave  him  permission.  He  is  not  to 
blame  for  his  father's  crimes.'  She  fixed 
her  beautiful  eyes  on  mine  as  she  spoke, 
and  then  added : 


MELVILLE  BROUGHT  THEM  PAPA!    Page  27 


THE   CHASTEXING   ROD.  279 

" '  My  husband,  let  us  give  up  this  war- 
fare. Let  us  cast  out  the  serpent  of  sus- 
picion from  our  bosoms.  Let  us  cherish 
instead,  the  grace  of  forgiveness  towards 
those  who  have  injured  us.  We  shall  be 
far  happier,  and  shall  not  then  fear  to  ask 
the  blessing  of  God  upon  our  path.' 

"  Many  times  at  longer  and  shorter  inter- 
vals, my  Edith  continued  to  urge  me  to  re- 
sign myself  to  my  lot,  pleading  that  she 
could  be  as  happy  in  a  cottage  as  in  a 
palace,  if  I  and  her  daughter  were  left 
her. 

"  These  exhortations  were  not  without 
effect.  Gradually  I  turned  my  attention 
to  other  objects.  I  forbade  "Warner  to  men- 
tion my  cousin's  name  ;  and  I  spent  hours 
each  day  teaching  my  little  Edith. 

"  "We  might  have  been  happy  then ;  but 
ah,  God  knew  what  was  best  for  me !  In 
love  he  chastened  me  to  bring  me  back  to 


280  LEELINAU. 

himself,  to  conquer  a  spirit  of  pride,  and 
.love  of  rank  dominant  in  my  breast.  My 
dear  wife,  my  better  part,  my  helper,  after 
a  short  illness  was  called  away  to  her  ever- 
lasting home.  It  so  happened  that  Melville 
was  at  the  Park  for  a  month  when  my  wife 
was  taken  ill ;  and  nothing  could  exceed  his 
attentions.  I  had  heretofore  forbidden  my 
daughter  to  accept  anything  from  the  Park 
but  flowers ;  now  he  urged  so  tearfully  that 
Aunt  Edith  would  be  better  for  some  grapes, 
or  peaches  or  some  other  dainties,  that 
gazing  in  my  wife's  peaceful  eyes  beaming 
with  the  light  of  heaven,  I  could  not  re- 
fuse. 

"  At  the  last  Melville  kneeled  with  us  around 
the  bed  of  the  dying  saint,  and  shed  his 
tears  with  ours,  when  she  fell  sweetly 
asleep  in  Jesus. 

"  Every  morning  when  I,  accompanied 
by  my  daughter  Edith,  visited  the  quiet 


THE   CHASTENING   ROD.  281 

grave  of  our  loved  one,  we  found  fresh 
flowers  had  been  strewn  there  by  an  ear- 
lier visitor;  but  at  length  Melville's  visits 
to  us  and  to  the  grave  ceased. 

"  One  evening  we  were  just  retiring  to 
rest  when  the  door  was  burst  open,  and 
the  young  man  appeared,  his  eyes  wildly 
protruded,  his  cheeks  pallid  with  excite- 
ment : 

"He  seized  my  hand  and  pressing  it  till 
the  grasp  became  painful,  exclaimed : 

" '  I  am  going  away !  I  cannot  live  at 
the  Park !  Uncle  !  Edith !  promise  me  that 
whatever  comes,  you  will  never  believe 
that  I  —  that  I  —  0  what  shall  I  say  ? 
I  fear  I  shall  lose  my  senses.  For  Aunt 
Edith's  sake  remember  me  kindly.  Fare- 
well I » 

"  He  dropped  my  hands,  caught  his 
cousin  Edith  to  his  heart,  held  her  there 
one  minute,  and  was  gone  before  we  could 


282  LEELINAU. 

learn  what  had  occurred  to  cause  this 
strange  outbreak. 

"  In  a  few  days,  "Warner,  who  had  ways 
of  his  own  for  learning  whatever  transpired 
at  the  Park,  ascertained  that  there  had  been 
a  rupture  between  Giles  and  his  son, 
which  ended  in  Melville's  threatening  to 
leave  the  parental  roof.  His  mother  wrung 
her  hands,  and  with  showers  of  tears, 
plead  with  him  not  to  leave  them ;  but  he 
firmly  answered : 

" '  You  know  tho  only  condition  on  which 
I  will  ever  return.' 

"  He  would  not  even  accept  a  carriage 
to  take  him  to  London,  but  departed  alone 
and  on  foot,  calling  on  us  on  his  way. 

"  That  was  the  last  time  I  ever  saw  my 
nephew  who,  I  was  constrained  to  believe, 
suspected  at  least  his  father's  crime,  and 
abhorred  it. 

"Now  that  you  know  these  facts,  you  will 


THE   CHASTENING   EOD.  283 

not  •wonder  that  I  was  agitated  on  receiv- 
ing this  letter  from  him,  endorsed  by  Lord 
Giles  Colchester." 

The  silver-haired  man  placed  in  Mr.  Ca- 
hilFs  hands  a  formal  proposal  of  marriage 
from  Melville  to  his  cousin  Edith.  The 
suit  was  warmly  urged  by  the  young  man, 
who  declared  he  could  not  remember  the 
hour  when  he  began  to  love  her. 

His  father's  letter  was  brief  and  to  the 
point.  It  ran  thus : 

"  I  give  my  unqualified  consent  to  my 
son's  proposals.  Edith  shall  bo  received  and 
welcomed  in  the  place  of  our  lost  Mildred." 

For  some  moments  after  reading  these 
letters,  Mr.  Cahili  sat  absorbed  in  thought. 

"  How  will  Edith  receive  this  offer  ? " 
he  asked  himself.  "  Wallingford,  your  suit 
is  in  danger." 

"I  confess  my  heart  goes  forth  to  the 
young  man,"  resumed  Mr.  Colchester.  "I 


284:  LEELINAU. 

wonder  that  this  way  of  adjusting  onr 
family  difficulties  never  occurred  to  mo. 
However  Edith  must  decide  for  herself. 
I  shall  never  force  her  inclinations." 

"  She  is  not  a  girl  to  submit  to  force," 
was  the  Rector's  reflection,  "  she  would  die 
first" 

"  I  wonder  where  my  daughter  can  be," 
murmured  the  visitor. 

"  Shall  I  find  her  and  send  her  to  you 
here?  or  may  I  suggest  that  you  post- 
pone the  delivery  of  the  letter  until  your 
return  home ;  you  will  then  have  ample 
time  for  reflection  before  the  next  steamer 
sails  for  Liverpool." 

After  a  moment's  hesitation  Mr.  Colchester 
folded  the  letter  again,  and  returned  it  to 
his  pocket. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A    BRIEF    EPISTLE. 

f  the  evening  when  they  were  once 
more  by  their  own  fireside,  Edith 
said: 


"  Warner  tells  me,  papa,  that  he  brought 
you  a  letter  with  a  foreign  stamp." 

"  Yes,  my  daughter,  forwarded  to  this 
city  from  Montreal." 

"  Who   was   the    letter   from,   papa  ? " 
Instead   of  answering  he  asked  suddenly : 
"  Edith,   do  you    remember    your    cousin 
Melville  ?  " 

Now  as  it  had  been  agreed  between  the 
three,  father,  child  and  servant,  that  the 
old  cares  and  vexations  should  be  left  be- 
hind them,  when  they  embarked  for  the 

(285) 


286  LEELINAU. 

Provinces,  and  as  during  the  year  and  a 
half  of  their  residence  in  Montreal,  no  ref- 
erence had  been  made  to  her  uncle's  fam- 
ily, the  young  girl's  start  of  surprise  at 
the  mention  of  the  once  familiar  name,  may 
be  easily  imagined.  But  after  a  moment 
she  answered,  smiling: 

"  Certainly,  but  I  should  scarcely  know 
him  now." 

"  And  yet  he  "was  very  fond  of  you,  my 
daughter." 

(:  Yes,"  with  a  yawn  behind  her  hand. 
"I  think  I  used  to  be  fond  of  him;  and, 
let  me  think,  what  did  mamma  say  to  me 
about  my  cousin?" 

Edith  fixed  her  eyes  thoughtfully  on  the 
fire,  (necessary  morning  and  evening  in  that 
climate,)  trying  to  recall  the  events  con- 
nected with  that  painful  scene. 

"  Yes,  it  was  the  day  before  mamma 
died.  Melville  had  brought  a  bunch  of 


A  BKIEF  EPISTLE.  287 

grapes  from  the  Park,  and  was  feeding  her 
with  them  one  by  one,  when  she  stopped 
him,  and  put  our  hands  together." 

" '  Love  her,  Melville/  she  said.  '  She  is 
a  dear  child,  and  she  will  soon  be  moth- 
erless.' 

"  I  recollect,"  Edith  added  after  a  pause 
of  painful  memories,  "  that  1  threw  my 
arms  around  Melville's  neck,  and  wept  as  if 
my  heart  would  break.  Oh,  how  sad  those 
days  were !  Why  revive  them,  papa  ?  " 

'•  I  have  a  reason,  my  dear,  which  I  will 
tell  you  presently." 

The   door   opened,   and   Warner   entered. 

"  I'm  getting  old  and  forgetful,  Miss 
Edith,"  he  said,  holding  out  a  letter.  "  This 
came  with  Master's  this  morning.  I  put 
'em  both  in  my  pocket  together;  but  I 
was  so  taken  up  with  seeing  our  Queen's 
head  on  the  stamp,  I  never  thought  of 
this  one." 


288  LEELINAU. 

Edith  seized  it  so  -eagerly  she  almost 
crushed  it  in  her  grasp. 

"I  hope  the  news  you  heard  was  good 
news,"  Warner  said,  addressing  his  master. 

"I  shall  tell  you  about  it  by-and-by,"  Mr. 
Colchester  answered  evasively. 

"Edith,  where  is  Edith?"  he  added, 
hearing  the  door  shut.  "Why,  what  has 
happened  ?  " 

By  this  time  the  young  girl  was  in  her 
chamber.  Tearing  open  the  envelope,  she 
saw  at  a  glance  that  instead  of  many 
sheets,  like  Mr.  Wallingford's  last,  this 
was  all  embraced  in  a  few  words. 

It  was  dated,   "  Midnight,  November    23." 

"  I  have  an  opportunity,"  the  letter 
began,  "  to  forward  a  letter  to  St.  Louis, 
by  one  of  the  traders  who  is  here  col- 
lecting furs,  and  embrace  it  to  say,  I 
have  met  my  mother.  She  has  not  the 
comfort  of  religion.  It  must  bo,  it  is  my 


A  BRIEF   EPISTLE.  280 

first  duty  to  remain  with  her.  Oh,  that 
you  were  here  to  administer  to  a  mind 
darkened  by  doubts  and  fears !  1  have 
much  to  say  to  you :  but  dare  not  lose 
this  opportunity  to  send  a  few  lines  as 
travelling  becomes  more  and  more  diffi- 
cult after  this  season.  Pray  for  me,  dear 
Edith,  and  pray  for  poor  Leelinau. 

"  WALLINGFOED." 

The  lines  had  evidently  been  written  in 
haste,  and  the  address  was  so  illegible 
that  it  had  travelled  from  one  place  to 
another  until  some  postmaster  had  crossed 
it  out  and  written  "  Savannah "  in  large 
letters. 

It  was  certainly  very  naughty  of  Edith. 
I  am  very  sorry  to  tell  tales  of  her.  No 
wonder  the  blushes  mounted  to  her  very 
brow;  but  she  pressed  the  brief  epistle  to 
her  heart,  and  then  to  her  lips. 

"  Ho   is   safe  then ;  he  has   not   forgotten 


290  LEELINAU. 

his    fellow  traveller.      Oh    how    thankful    I 
am!" 

It  was  nearly  half  an  hour  before  she 
recalled  to  mind  the  fact,  that  she  had 
left  her  father  very  abruptly.  She  ap- 
proached the  mirror  and  was  half  vexed 
that  her  eyes  shone  so  brightly.  She  fear- 
ed lest  some  one  should  guess  her  secret 

joy- 

A  knock  at  her  chamber  door,  and 
Warner  reminded  her  that  the  hour  was 
growing  late  and  that  her  father  was  im- 
patient for  her  return  to  the  parlor. 

If  Mr.  Colchester  could  have  known 
what  was  passing  in  his  daughter's  mind, 
he  would  have  waited  a  more  favorable 
opportunity  to  present  her  cousin'-s  propo- 
sals, which,  every  moment  he  thought  of 
them,  he  became  more  desirous  she  should 
accept.  But  he  did  not  even  guess  that 
her  heart  was  not  her  own.  He  had  indeed 


A  BRIEF  EPISTLE.  291 

become  familiar  with  the  name  of  Wall- 
ingford  in  consequence  of  hearing  it  re- 
peatedly from  Mr.  Cahill ;  but  for  aught 
he  knew,  the  gentleman  was  a  man  of 
family  or  advanced  in  years.  Edith  had 
seldom  mentioned  him. 

"  I  was  just  about  to  tell  you,"  he 
said,  smilingly  welcoming  her  to  a  seat 
near  him,  "  that  I  have  received  a  letter 
for  you  from  your  cousin  Melville.  My 
daughter,  you  look  more  and  more  like 
your  mother.  She  had  just  such  a  beam 
in  her  brown  eye.  You  need  a  mother 
now,  my  dear. 

"Did  you  say  the  letter  was  to  me, 
papa?  Please  let  me  see  it,  unless  you 
have  resolved  to  return  it  unread,  which  I 
hope  for  mamma's  sake  you  will  not  do." 

"  No,  no,  child,  I  Lave  read  it  already, 
and  give  you  my  consent  io  act  exactly 
as  your  heart  prompts  in  this  matter." 


292  LEELINAU. 

Edith  took  the  sheet  and  perused  it  with 
undisguised  merriment. 

"  Thank  you,  papa,  for  giving  me  liberty 
to  answer  as  I  please.  Melville  is  a  good, 
kind  cousin,  no  doubt :  but  after  an  absence 
of, — let  me  see,  I  was  ten  or  near  it,  when 
he  went  away,  and  now  I  am  eighteen, — 
an  absence  of  eight  years,  it  cannot  be 
expected  that  I  should  feel  very  anxious 
for  a  nearer  connection.  He  must  be  un- 
usually hopeful  to  expect  that." 

She  met  her  father's  saddened  eye,  and 
perceiving  that  he  still  held  a  paper  sup- 
posed that  it  contained  something  painful. 

"  What  is  it,  papa  ? "  reaching  out  her 
hand.  "Let  me  read  it  and  throw  it  be- 
hind the  grate.  We  are  so  happy  here, 
we  don't  want  any  change,  do  we?" 

Her  face  flushed  indignantly  as  she  read: 

"  I  give  my  unqualified  consent  to  my 
son's  proposals." 


A  BRIEF  EPISTLE.  293 

"  What  nonsense  !  Does  he  suppose  that 
I  will  go  back  to  the  Park  and  live  there 
with  his  Lordship  ?  "  She  was  tossing  the 
letter  into  the  flames  when  her  father 
caught  her  hand. 

"  Edith,  you  are  too  hasty.  I  am  disap- 
pointed. If  I  could  see  you  restored  to 
your  rights  ;  I  should  die  in  peace.  I  have 
prayed  for  many  a  year  that  this  might 
be.  Perhaps  God  is  answering  my  prayers 
in  this  way." 

Edith  sat  like  one  stupified.  Such  words 
coming  from  her  father's  lips  not  only  sur- 
prised but  pained  her  exceedingly.  ''Would 
my  father  ? "  she  asked  herself,  "  see  me 
married  to  my  cousin,  sacrifice  everything 
that  makes  life  dear  in  order  to  wring 
from  Lord  Dexter  what  he  has  ungracious- 
ly wrested  from  us?  No,  I  have  misunder- 
stood him,  it  cannot  be." 

"You  are  weary,  papa.     There  is  a  flush 


294  LEELIXAU. 

on  your  cheek  which  I  do  not  like.  In 
the  morning  we  will  talk  about  Melville. 
Good  night,  papa;  I  will  send  Warner  to 
you  directly." 

She  kissed  him  as  she  spoke,  putting 
back  affectionately  a  lock  of  silver  hair, 
fallen  over  his  brow,  and  before  he  could 
stop  her,  she  was  half  way  to  the  dining- 
room  where  the  servant  sat  reading  his 
paper. 

At  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  her  first 
pupil  came,  and  from  that  time  till  six  at 
night,  her  father  waited  to  recall  Edith's 
attention  to  the  subject  of  Melville's  suit. 

The  moment  tea  was  served  he  desired 
her  to  accompany  him  to  the  parlor. 

"  Have  you  decided  ? "  he  inquired  anx- 
iously. 

"  Decided   what,   papa  ?  " 

"I  refer  to  your  cousin's  proposals,  Edith. 
I  have  viewed  them  in  every  possible  light. 


A   BEIEP   EPISTLE.  295 

Giles  is  many  years  my  senior,  and  there- 
fore in  the  course  of  nature  cannot  long 
survive." 

"  Papa,  why  will  you  talk  so  ?  You  are 
young  yet.  It  is  only  this  crown  of  glory 
which  makes  you  look  old."  She  lifted  the 
locks  tenderly. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  I  was  going  to  say 
that  if  Giles  will  advance  money  for  Mel- 
ville to  live  independently  of  him,  it  would 
be  a  relief  to  my  mind  that  you  can  never 
suspect,  to  see  you  once  more  in  the  sphere 
to  which  you  belong." 

"  Papa,"  every  word  was  low  but  clear, 
"  papa,  if  Lord  Giles  Colchester  would  give 
his  son  every  pound  he  is  worth,  on  con- 
dition I  would  marry  him,  I  would  not 
consent." 

"Why   not,  Edith?" 

"Because   I   don't   love   him." 

She    turned   on   her   heel,   and   was   walk' 


296  LEELINAU. 

ing  toward  the  piano,  when  her  father 
said: 

"  My  daughter,  I  know  you  do  not  in- 
teni  to  grieve  me.  You  have  been  my  com- 
fort, my  only  solace,  too  long  for  me  not  to 
understand  that.  But  I  must  be  frank  with 
you.  Melville's  proposals  are  honorable  and 
deserve  some  consideration  from  you.  Stay, 
do  not  speak  yet,  you  are  young ;  you  are 
excited.  You  do  not  understand  your  own 
heart." 

"Unfortunately  I  understand  it  too  well," 
was  the  poor  girl's  mental  comment. 

"  I  will  not  take  what  you  said  just  now 
as  an  answer.  I  will  give  you  time  to 
ponder  the  subject." 

"  Papa,  dear  papa,"  Edith  began,  when 
seeing  his  flushed,  anxious  face  she  checked 
herself,  and  only  adding,  "  thank  you,"  ran 
her  fingers  over  the  keys,  as  a  precursor 
to  a  song. 


A   BRIEF   EPISTLE.  297 

Her  father  listened  and  wondered.  Her 
music  was  so  joyful,  triumphant,  even  the 
tones  of  her  voice  thrilled  with  exultation. 

"  Just  so  I  could  sing,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, "  if  I  could  see  Edith  mistress  of  the 
Park." 

One  song  followed  another,  each  in  the 
same  jubilant  strain,  and  when  she  rose 
and  came  toward  him,  her  countenance 
beamed  with  joy. 

She  seated  herself  at  his  feet  and  gazed 
up  into  his  face. 

"  I   am   happy  to-night,   papa." 

"  So   I   perceive,  my   daughter." 

"  Only  think,  dear  papa,  how  God  has 
blessed  us.  Five  months  ago  how  dark 
our  prospect  was !  You  were  feeble,  I 
could  not  earn  enough  to  support  us  com- 
fortably. We  all  disliked  the  cold  climate ; 
and  we  did  not  find  too  many  friends. 
Now,  how  different  1  We  have  a  delightful 


298  LEELINAU. 

home,  where  the  warm  breezes  will  soon 
restore  you.  I  have  plenty  of  remunera- 
tive employment,  kind  friends,  and  every- 
thing congenial  God  is  very  good  to  me, 
papa.  My  heart  is  full  of  hallelujahs !" 

"  I  thank  God,  my  child.  If  you  are 
happy,  it  is  all  I  ask." 

"  But  are  you  not  happy  too,  papa  ?  I 
thought  I  had  never  seen  you  more  so 
than  yesterday  after  that  long  theological 
discussion  with  Mr.  Cahill.'' 

"  Yes,  my  child,  I  am  always  happy 
when  I  see  you  so.  But  it  is  growing 
late,  and  you  may  bring  the  Bible  for 
prayers." 

Edith  arose,  summoned  Warner  and  their 
colored  cook,  then  joined  with  the  others 
in  devotion.  "  Oh,"  she  said  to  herself, 
"with  what  fervor  my  father  pours  out 
his  heart  before  God." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

DEATH    OF    THE    CONSPIRATORS. 

[EFORE  morning  Mr.  Colchester  was 
seized  with  an  attack  of  fever,  and 
for  nearly  a  fortnight  did  not  leave 
his  bed.  Every  moment  that  Edith  could 
command  from  her  pupils,  was  spent  by 
his  side ;  and  for  the  rest,  Warner's  hand 
was  as  soft,  and  his  step  as  light  as  a 
woman's. 

The  gentleman  was  at  no  time  very  ill ; 
but  in  his  feeble  state,  the  fever  pros- 
trated and  depressed  him. 

It  was  his  daughter's  delight  to  smooth 
his  white  locks,  to  sing  low  lullabies,  to 
read  entertaining  news.  For  this  purpose 
Warner  was  commissioned  one  day  to  pur- 

<239> 


300  LEELIXAU. 

chase  a  copy  of  the  London  Times;  and 
Edith  having  a  full  hour  at  command  drew 
a  chair  near  the  bed,  and  sat  down  to 
skim  from  its  columns  whatever  might 
amuse  or  interest  her  patient.  Passing 
over  "  Lord  B's,  and  Lord  M's  speeches  in 
Parliament,"  "  Disagreement  in  the  House 
of  Lords,"  etc.,  etc.,  she  came  at  length 
to  "  Items,"  and  laughing  merrily,  read : 

"The  Earl  of  Manning  with  his  beauti- 
ful Countess  are  passing  the  honey-moon 
on  his  ancestral  estates  in  Scotland." 

"On  Saturday,  Nov.  8th,  a  child  of 
Sir  Monson  Smith  was  run  over  and  dan- 
gerously injured.  It  is  reported  that  he  can- 
not survive  many  hours. 

With  a  passing  comment,  "Poor  little 
dear ! "  Edith's  eye  glanced  on. 

Presently  with  a  scream,  she  sprang  to 
her  feet,  exclaiming :  "  Papa,  what  was  tha 
date  of  that  letter  from  Lord  Giles?" 


DEATH   OF   THE   CONSPIRATORS.  301 

"The  twentieth  of  October,  dear.  If 
we  bad  remained  in  Montreal  a  week 
longer,  wo  should  have  received  it  two 
months  sooner." 

Edith's  eves  were  {listened  on  the  sheet; 
and  she  did  not  appear  to  be  listening. 

"What  is  it?"  ho  asked,  petulantly. 
"Is  there  anything  about  my  cousin?" 

The  paper  dropped  to  the  floor,  and 
Edith's  head  fell  forward  on  the  pillow, 
where  a  burst  of  tears  gave  evidence  of 
some  unusual  agitation. 

"  Give  me  the  paper,  my  daughter. 
There  is  nothing  concerning  his  Lordship 
which  need  thus  affect  you," 

"Except  his  death,"  murmured  Edith, 
raising  herself.  "  Forgive  me,  papa.  I 
quite  forgot  you  were  suffering  from 
suspense.  Tho  news  is  startling ;  and  I 
fear  in  your  weak  state  you  cannot  bear  it." 

"Tell  me,   child." 


302  LEELINAU. 

She  caught  up  the  paper,  found  the 
paragraph  and  with  a  quivering  voice  read 
the  following: 

"  FURTHER  PARTICULARS  OF  THE  LATE  TRAGEDY. 

"After  a  night  of  terrible  distress  both 
of  body  and  mind,  Mr.  Giles,  or  Lord  Giles 
Colchester,  as  he  has  called  himself,  died 
this  morning.  During  his  last  hours  he 
made  a  full  confession  of  his  crimes,  cor- 
roborating in  every  particular  the  previous 
confession  of  O'Neil.  Efforts  for  the  dis- 
covery of  Lord  Dexter  Colchester,  are 
being  vigorously  prosecuted  in  every 
quarter.  The  confession  of  the  conspira- 
tors will  be  found  on  the  fourth  page 
of  this  sheet." 

During  the  reading,  the  sick  man  lay 
quietly  on  his  pillow  with  his  eyes  closed. 
When  his  daughter  turned  to  him  to  ask: 

"Shall  I   read   the   confession?"  his  pale 


DEATH    OF   THE   CONSPIRATORS.  303 

face  alarmed  her,  and  she  quickly  bent 
over  him. 

"  Call,  Warner,"  lie  said,  in  an  unsteady 
voice. 

The  faithful  servant  came  and  listened 
to  a  brief  report  of  Giles  Colchester's 
death  from  Edith's  lips. 

"  God   is   righteous   in   his  judgments." 

The  sick  man  said  this  as  he  met  Warner's 
sympathizing  eye.  "  I  have  sinned,  griev- 
ously sinned  that  I  ever  doubted  his 
justice." 

"  But  how  did  they  get  that  infamous 
will?"  questioned  the  old  servant  in  an 
excited  tone.  "  I  set  O'Neil  down  for  a 
villain  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  him. 
Head  it  out,  Miss  Edith,  please." 

"  This   is   O'Xeil's   confession,   papa." 

"  I  was  hired  by  Giles  Colchester  to 
do  a  nasty  job.  I  was  valet  under  a  man 
named  Warner.  My  business  with  Giles 


304  LEELINAD. 

was  to  obtain  possession  of  a  will,  Lord 
Dexter  Colchester  had  drawn  in  his  favor. 
Everything  had  been  formerly  willed  to  my 
Lord's  nephew,  Mr.  Dexter;  but  Giles 
worked  upon  his  uncle,  telling  him,  his 
heir  was  making  ducks  and  drakes  of 
his  money  by  giving  post-obits  to  the 
Jews,  so  that  in  a  fit  of  displeasure,  my 
Lord  sent  for  his  lawyer,  Goldsborough, 
and  had  a  will  drawn  up  making  over 
the  estate  to  Giles.  This  will  was  not 
signed  and  Giles  was  pretty  sure  it  never 
would  be,  on  account  of  my  Lady  being 
so  fond  of  her  nephew  and  disbelieving 
the  stories.  As  good  or  bad  luck  would 
have  it,  Warner  was  taken  sick ;  and  I 
had  my  own  way  with  my  Lord.  I  ob- 
tained possession  of  his  keys  and  soon  ab- 
stracted the  unsigned  will  from  his  private 
secretary.  In  the  same  way  I  obtained  pos- 
session of  another  important  fact  which 


DEATH   OF   THE   CONSPIRATOBS.  305 

was  that  there  was  another  will  leaving 
the  Park,  landed  interest,  and  stocks  to 
his  beloved  nephew  Dexter  Colchester. 
This  document  was  duly  signed  and  exe- 
cuted, and  my  orders  from  Giles  were  to 
keep  a  good  look  out  for  it  that  it  might 
be  missing  at  the  proper  time. 

"  It  was  veary  waiting  so  many  years ; 
but  at  last  my  Lord  died,  and  the  right 
will  being  no  where,  the  attorney  seized 
on  the  other  as  the  last.  It  was  all  sign- 
ed, sealed  and  witnessed  in  due  form. 

The  lawyer  quizzed  and  puzzled  over 
the  signatures;  but  the  counterfeit  was 
too  exact  for  detection.  It  had  taken 
Giles  years  to  copy  the  three  names,  and 
he  had  done  it  well.  On  the  trial  tho 
witnesses  were  cross-questioned ;  "  Did  you 
sign  a  document  for  Lord  Dexter  purport- 
ing to  be  his  will?" 

"'I   did.' 

(20) 


306  LEELINAU. 

"  '  Is   this   your   signature  ?  ' 

"  They  looks  at  it,  and  says,  ' "  Yes, 
your  Honor,  it  is.'  It  was  the  other  will 
they  signed;  but  they  didn't  know  the 
difference. 

"  Giles  was  to  give  me  five  thousand 
pounds  down,  when  the  business  was  safely 
through ;  and  I  was  to  have  a  home  with 
him  as  long  as  I  wished.  We  got  tired 
of  each  other's  company  after  a  while, 
and  my  Lady,  who  knew  all  the  secrets, 
began  to  be  impertinent  and  ungrateful. 
I  don't  like  to  think  of  ah1  the  scenes  I 
was  a  witness  to.  Mildred  the  daughter 
was  drowned  and  Melville  left  the  house.  He 
suspecred  too  much  for  his  own  comfort.  At 
last  words  grew  high  between  me  and 
the  man  I  called  master ;  though  in  truth 
I  ANUS  muster,  and  he  was  slave.  He  called 
me  names  I  did  not  deserve  ;  and  I  resolved 
to  be  revenged.  I  watched  my  chance 


DEATH   OF  THE   CONSPIRATORS.  307 

when  he  wasn't  quite  himself,  and  having 
fortified  my  courage  with  a  glass  or  two 
extra,  I  gave  him  a  stab.  That's  ail  I 
have  to  say." 

It  was  a  mild  day  in  the  early  part 
of  February.  Mr.  Cahill  sat  at  his  desk 
in  the  study  belonging  to  the  Rectory, 
when  Georgy  burst  open  the  door  ex- 
claming  : 

"  Papa,   Mr.   Wallingford   has    come  ! " 

The  Rector  sprang  up  in  such  haste 
that  he  upset  a  chair  in  his  way,  and 
hastened  to  meet  and  welcome  his  visitor. 

"Why,  Wallingford,  you  look  like  a 
ghost  of  your  former  self!  Where  have 
you  come  from?"  cried  Mrs.  Cahill  hurry- 
ing into  the  room  and  extending  her 
hand  with  friendly  warmth. 

"  I  have  not  been  well,  certainly,"  said 
the  visitor,  sinking  back  into  a  chair.  "  I 


308  LEELINAU. 

have  had  what  my  physicians  call  accli- 
mating fever." 

"When  did  you   reach   Savannah?" 

"  Last   evening." 

"  And  do  you  know  ?  has  Mr.  Cahill  told 
you,  about  the  Colchesters  ?  " 

"Not   a    word." 

"  Then  you  must  take  lunch  with  us. 
I  positively  wont  tell  you  a  word  until 
you  have  had  something  to  bring  the 
color  back  to  your  cheeks.  You  will  re- 
quire all  your  strength  to  sustain  the 
wonderful  news." 

"Your  friend  Edith  has  a  new  title 
since  you  left  Savannah,"  murmured  Georgi- 
anna  in  his  ear. 

"Be  quiet,  Georgy.  Stop  quizzing  at 
once,  and  come  with  Mr.  Wallingford,  to 
the  dining-room." 

"  Yes,  run  along,"  said  her  father.  "  We 
will  follow."  He  had  not  been  an  unrnov- 


DEATH   OP   THE   CONSPIRATORS.  309 

ed  spectator  of  his  friend's  distress  at  his 
daughter's  suggestion,  and  resolved  to  re- 
lieve him  from  his  ill-grounded  apprehen- 
sions. 

"Mr.  Colchester  has  recovered  his  for- 
tune and  with  it  his  title,"  ho  &aid,  when 
they  were  alone. 

He  noticed  with  pleasure  the  quick 
gasp  of  relief  and  asked,  "  Have  you  not 
received  Edith's  letter  announcing  her  in- 
tention of  returning  to  England?" 

"  Not  a  word.  When  did  she  leave  the 
country  ?  " 

"  They  sailed  from  Savannah  the  middle 
of  January.  I  have  a  letter  in  my  desk 
directed  to  you.  Will  you  have  it  now  ? " 

"  Mr.  Cahill,  you  give  me  credit  for 
good  nature  when  you  ask  that  question. 
Of  course,  I  wish  it  at  once." 

"  Now,  my  dear,  you  have  spoiled  my 
pleasure,"  exclaimed  the  lady,  when  her 


310  LEELINA0. 

husband  entered  the  dining-room  alone. 
Where  have  you  left  Mr.  Wallingford  ? " 

"  In  the  parlor,  reading  a  letter  from 
Edith,  which  I  was  requested  to  keep  for 
him." 

"  Mr.  Cahill,  is  it,  or  is  it  not,  the  part 
of  a  good  husband  to  confide  in  his  wife?" 

"  To  confide  his  own  secrets  by  all 
means  ;  but  here  comes  our  guest,  who  will 
need  all  your  attention." 

"  By  no  means,"  Mrs.  Cahill,"  added 
Wallingford,  advancing  with  a  smile.  "  If 
you  will  give  me  a  cup  of  coffee  I  will 
thank  jou.  The  steamer  leaves  in  the 
morning,  and  I  must  engage  passage  for 
New  York." 

"  I  cannot  say  I  am  surprised,"  remarked 
the  Rector.  But  let  me  advise  you.  Econ- 
omize your  strength.  Rest  yourself  here; 
and  I  will  make  every  necessary  arrange- 
ment. My  wife  has  a  budget  of  news 


DEATH   OP    THE   CONSPIRATORS.  311 

which  she  is  most  anxious  to  get  rid  of." 
Mr.  "Wallingford  warmly  expressed  his  grat 
itude,  and  resigned  himself  to  the  lady's  care 
with  a  smile. 

She  arranged  the  pillows,  shaded  the 
light  from  his  eyes,  and  having  dismissed 
her  daughters  took  a  chair  near  the  sofa, 
resolved  to  improve  this  last  opportunity 
to  penetrate  the  mystery  concerning  Edith 
and  her  lover. 

In  regard  to  his  own  private  history 
the  Englishman  was  reserved,  explaining 
that  when  he  first  met  Miss  Colchester, 
he  was  on  his  way  to  the  West  on  bus- 
iness which  demanded  his  prompt  atten- 
tion. He  confessed  frankly  that  he  loved 
Edith,  and  meant  to  win  her  if  he  could. 

"Did  Mr.  Cahill  tell  you  that  you  have 
a  rival,  a  formidable  one,  too  ?  Mr.  Mel- 
ville Colchester,  her  father's  cousin.  Ho 
left  his  father's  home  on  account  of  his 


312  LEELINAU. 

sympathy  with  Edith.  Warner  insists  that 
his  mistress  wished  the  match,  and  though 
the  cousins  were  only  children,  joined  their 
hands  in  hers  before  she  died. 

"  I  don't  mean  to  intimate  that  I  believe 
Edith  will  marry  her  cousin,"  added  Mrs. 
Cahill,  when  she  had  tortured  her  victim 
as  much  as  she  wished,  "I  think  her  heart 
is  pre-occupied.  By  whom,  it  is  not  for 
me  to  say." 

"Does  her  father  advocate  her  cousin's 
claims  ?  " 

"  He  did  warmly,  before  he  knew  of  Mr. 
Giles  Colchester's  death,  and  even  afterward 
he  urged  that  by  uniting  herself  with  him, 
the  title  and  estate  could  be  kept  together, 
as  Melville  is  the  next  male  heir.  He 
is  a  thorough  Englishman,"  laughing  heart- 
ily. "  It  was  astonishing  how  he  rallied 
when  he  heard  the  news.  I  had  no  idea 
he  had  so  much  family  pride." 


DEATH   OF   THE   CONSPIRATORS. 


313 


"And   Edith?" 

"  I  believe  Edith  really  regretted  leav- 
ing Savannah.  She  urged  her  father  to 
remain  until  spring :  hut  both  he  and  War- 
ner were  impatient  to  be  off." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  TRAVELLERS'  RETURN. 

3  noble  steamer  Europa  lay  at  the 
wharf.  The  rumble  of  heavy  bag- 
gage over  the  deck,  the  hurrying 
of  passengers  to  and  fro,  the  groups  stand- 
ing near  the  state-room  doors  watching  the 
ever  increasing  crowd,  hacks  driving  fu- 
riously down  to  the  ship  and  unloading 
their  living  freight,  men,  women  and  chil- 
dren, following  the  waiters,  who,  with 
keys  in  their  hands,  are  finding  the  cor- 
responding numbers  on  the  doors, —  all  an- 
nounce that  the  time  of  sailing  is  at  hand. 
A  gentleman  standing  at  the  bow  of  the 
boat  is  idly  watching  the  arrival  of  pas- 
sengers. His  form  is  erect,  and  his  eye 

(314) 


THE  TRAVELLERS'  RETURN.  315 

keen,  but  his  cheeks  are  pale  and  sunken, 
and  he  has  the  air  of  one  whose  thoughts 
are  far  away. 

Every  moment  now  is  important  to  thoso 
about  to  embark.  The  sound  of  the  steam 
whistling  and  shrieking  is  deafening,  the 
passengers  are  getting  frantic,  one  running 
this  way  and  another  that,  until  the  con- 
fusion of  voices  reminds  one  of  Babel. 

Just  at  this  crisis  the  traveller  perceives 
a  carriage  driving  toward  the  wharf  at 
headlong  speed,  the  hackman  waving  his 
hat  as  he  sees  the  gangway  steps  are 
about  to  be  drawn  on  board  ship.  The 
steaming  horses  haul  up  suddenly  at  the 
pier,  and  the  steps  are  let  down.  First 
an  aged  serving  man  alights,  next  a  young 
lady  jumps  to  the  ground,  closely  veiled, 
giving  a  shawl  and  carpet  bag  to  the  ser- 
vant, and  they  all  stand  near  the  door 
to  assist  an  invalid  from  the  carriage.  It 


316  LEELINATT. 

is  evident  to  tho  watcher  that  he  is  too 
weak  to  walk  from  tho  pier  to  tho  deck. 
The  hackman  understands  this,  and  runs 
on  board  the  steamer  for  assistance,  when 
with  the  aid  of  a  chair,  the  sick  man  is 
conveyed  safely  on  deck,  and  along  to  the 
door  of  his  state  room,  where  he  is  pres- 
ently lost  to  view. 

There  is  nothing  unusual  in  all  this ; 
yet  the  lonely  traveller  keeps  his  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  strangers  as  long  as  they 
are  in  sight,  and  sighs  when  the  door  is 
shut  upon  them.  Instead  of  retiring  at 
once  to  his  state-room,  as  ho  was  intend- 
ing, he  promenades  the  saloon,  peering 
anxiously  through  every  veil,  which  ob- 
scures the  features  of  the  fair  passengers. 

At  last,  baffled  in  his  search,  he  visits 
the  Captain's  office  to  record  his  name, 
and  to  examine  the  list  of  passengers. 

Among  the   first  entries  his  eyes    fasten 


THE  TRAVELLERS'  RETURN.  317 

on    one,  written    in    a    bold,   inelegant    chi- 
rograpliy.      It   is   this  : 

"  Lord  Dexter  Colchester,  daughter  and 
servant." 

"  The  old  gentleman  who  was  brought 
on  board  in  a  chair,"  remarks  the  Cap- 
tain in  a  friendly  tone.  "  His  servant  en- 
gaged their  passage  and  entered  their  names." 

"  Yes,  I  am  aware, "  —  murmured  the 
other,  turning  quickly  away. 

He  hastily  wrote  a  few  words  on  a 
card,  and  having  ascertained  the  number 
of  Miss  Colchester's  state-room,  sent  a  stew- 
ardess with  it  to  her.  The  words  were 
merely  these: 

"  Command  my  services,  Edith,  if  you 
need  them  during  our  voyage. 

"  WALLINGFORD." 

Standing  where  he  could  command  a 
view  of  her  door,  the  gentleman  presently 
«aw  a  bright  face  peep  out,  and  glance 


318  LEELINAU. 

expectant  up  and  down  the  saloon.  He 
stepped  quickly  forward,  and  grasped  her 
hand,  holding  it  firmly  between  his  own. 

"  May  I  claim  this  ?  "  he  asked,  after  one 
long,  searching  gaze  into  her  face. 

"  If  you   think   it   worth  claiming." 

And   this   was  their  betrothal. 

For  one  moment  the  deck  of  the  ves- 
sel seemed  whirling,  while  the  passengers, 
himself  among  the  rest,  floated  mid  air; 
but  this  might  be  accounted  for  by  Mr. 
Wallingford's  recent  illness.  What  did  he 
care  who  might  be  observing  them  ? 
He  raised  the  taper  fingers  to  his  lips, 
sighing  with  the  excess  of  his  happiness. 

"  At  last,"  he  murmured,  "  at  last  I  am 
free  to  tell  you." 

But  Edith,  blushing,  interrupted  him : 

"Papa  is  here.  He  has  been  very  ill. 
We  expected  to  sail  in  the  Britannia,  but 
he  was  unable  to  leave  his  bed." 


THE  TRAVELLERS'  RETURN.  319 

"I  am  afraid  I  am  not  as  sorry  as  I 
ought  to  bo,"  was  the  arch  reply,  "  since 
it  gives  me  the  pleasure  of  taking  the 
voyage  with  you.  But  will  you  not  walk 
with  me?" 

"  I  Avill  see  whether  papa  needs  me. 
Warner  is  with  him.  You  remember 
Warner.7' 

"  Perfectly." 

She  knocked  at  the  door  of  her  father's 
state-r-oom  which  was  next  her  own. 

"How  do  you  feel,  papa?  I  have  met 
a  friend  on  board.  You  have  heard  Mr. 
Cahill  speak  of  Mr.  Wallingford.  You  re- 
member, Warner,  the  one  who  offered  to 
protect  me  on  the  way  to  Savannah.  He 
is  returning  to  England  by  this  steamer." 

"  You  must  apologize  to  him,  Edith, 
that  I  do  not  admit  him  at  once  to  thank 
him  for  his  kindness  to  us.  To-morrow  I 
shall  hope  for  the  pleasure." 


320  LEELIXAU. 

"Do  you  need  me  now,  papa?" 

"  No,  my  dear,  "Warner  is  unpacking 
what  is  necessary,  and  then  I  shall  try 
to  rest. 

"Did  Mr.  Cahill  tell  you  about  us? 
Were  you  surprised  to  find  we  had  left 
Savannah?"  inquired  Edith,  glancing  tim- 
idly in  her  companion's  face. 

"  I  dare  not  tell  you  how  disappointed 
I  was,  when  on  passing  your  house,  I 
saw  the  words  "  TO  LET  "  conspicuous  in 
all  the  windows." 

"  Tell   me   about   Leelinau." 

"  She  died  the  death  of  a  Christian," 
he  exclaimed,  with  a  triumphant  smile. 
"  She  died  with  the  name  of  Jesus  on 
her  lips, — Jesus  whom  she  adored  as  her 
Saviour.  She  died  blessing  you  too, 
my  Edith,  blessing  you  for  your  faith- 
fulness to  her  son.  Shall  I  ever  cease 
to  bless  you,  my  darling?  I  never  pray 


THE  TRAVELLERS'  RETURN.  321 

for  a  blessing  on  myself  that  the  thought 
of  one  dearer  than  self  does  not  mingle 
with  my  supplications." 

The  young  girl  lifted  her  eyes  misty 
with  tears  to  his  face,  but  did  not  speak, 
and  presently  he  went  on: 

"Soon  after  my  mother  was  laid  away 
to  her  rest,  I  started  in  company  with 
some  American  traders,  who,  during  the 
winter,  visit  the  Indian  tribes  to  buy  furs 
for  St.  Louis.  The  rivers  were  frozen  and 
langerous.  It  was  a  perilous  journey.  But 
ibr  a  precious  reward  in  prospect  I  would 
lave  tarried  with  Petalesharoo  till  spring ; 
ndeed,  I  feared  at  one  time,  I  should  be 
nbliged  to  do  so.  In  St.  Louis  I  was 
taken  sick  with  what  was  called  acclima- 
ting fever.  Father  Greeny,  who  had  pre- 
ceded me  to  that  city,  watched  me  with 
the  tenderness  of  a  natural  father.  In  the 
words  of  our  own  poet, 


322  LEELINAU. 

'  Six  days   I  lay 

In   that  strange   borderland,    so   he   who   watched 
Unwearied  as    an  angel,    day   and   night, 
Beside   my   pillow,    told   me   when  I   woke 
From   the   fruition  of  celestial  love, 
To   drink  in,   like   a    thirsty   traveller 
The   sweetness   of  thy  human  love   once  more—- 
Never so  sweet   as   now.     They   sin   who   deem 
There   can   be   discord  betwixt  love   and   lore.' 

"Oh,  Edith,  now  that  you  have  given 
me  a  right  to  do  so,  I  may  tell  you  what 
a  sore  trial  it  was  to  leave  you  in  Savan- 
nah without  some  pledge  of  your  affection. 
Nothing  but  a  stern  sense  of  duty  re- 
strained me.  I  knew  not  but  my  mother's 
situation  might  require  my  presence  for 
years.  I  had  taken  a  solemn  vow  after 
learning  from  my  father's  long  sealed  pack- 
age that  I  had  a  mother,  to  allow  nothing 
of  pleasure — of  self-advantage  to  detain  me 
from  the  holy  duty  my  father  had  enjoined 
on  me.  I  have  always  thought  he  must 


THE  TRAVELLERS'  RETURN.  323 

have  had  a  presentiment  of  death  before 
he  left  England,  so  exact  was  every  ar- 
rangement of  his  business.  Poor  Leelinau, 
has  always  fancied  herself  the  cause,  as 
if  she  had  consented  to  return  with  him, 
she  argued  that  her  love  could  have  held 
him  back  from  death." 

"  Oh,  how  much  she  must  have  suffered 
from  such  vain  regrets ! "  faltered  Edith, 
deeply  moved. 

"  Shall  I  teh1  you  my  mother's  last  re- 
gret in  her  dying  hour?  It  was  that  she 
could  not  once  hold  to  her  heart  the  dear 
one  her  Blackbird  loved,  and  whose  affec- 
tion for  him  would,  she  hoped,  comfort  him 
after  her  death.  Edith,  how  she  would 
have  delighted  in  you  ! " 

The  next  morning  on  reaching  the  sa- 
loon, our  young  friend  found  Mr.  "Walling- 
ford  seated  near  the  table  reading  from  a 
Bible  which  lay  there.  When  he  saw  her, 


324  LEELINAIT. 

he  invited  her  to  join  him,  and  together 
they  read  the  fifty-fifth  chapter  of  Isaiah, 
together  with  the  ninety-first  Psalm.  Then 
he  took  a  small  package  from  his  breast- 
pocket and  presented  it  to  her. 

"  It  is  Leelinau's  gift,  a  gift  of  love  to 
her  daughter,  she  said,  I  know  not  what  it 
contains." 

Edith's  cheeks  vied  in  color  with  the 
richest  rose,  as  she  tremblingly  untied  the 
string. 

A  flat  paper  box  inside  the  wrapper  con- 
tained a  beautiful  set  of  jewelry,  Flying- 
leap's  bridal  gift  to  his  Princess.  There 
was  a  necklace,  bracelets,  brooch  and  ear- 
rings of  coral  and  gold,  prettily  designed 
and  of  exquisite  workmanship.  There  was 
also  a  ring  of  great  value,  the  sight  of 
which  deeply  affected  "Wallingford,  as  he 
had  often  seen  it  on  his  mother's  finger, 
and  had  heard  her  say  her  husband  brought 


THE  TRAVELLERS'  RETURN.  325 

it  when  he  last  visited  her.  This  the  lover 
asked  permission  to  put  on  Edith's  finger, 
until  he  could  replace  it  with  another. 

"  I  brought  away  some  fancy  moccasins," 
he  said,  when  the  rest  of  the  jewelry  had 
been  carefully  replaced  in  the  box.  "  I 
was  obliged  to  guess  at  the  size,"  he 
added  smiling,  as  he  glanced  at  the  tip  of 
a  tiny  boot  below  her  dress.  "  When  I 
unpack  my  trunk,  we  shall  see  whether  I 
guessed  aright." 

After  breakfast,  for  which  Edith  began 
to  feel  some  disgust,  Warner  came  to  Mr. 
Wallingford  to  say  that  Lord  Colchester 
would  be  glad  to  see  him  in  his  state- 
room. 

Edith  was  with  her  father,  but  after  in- 
troducing her  friend,  she  left  them  alone. 

Half  an  hour, — an  hour  passed, — and  still 
the  interview  was  prolonged.  Through  the 
partition  which  divided  the  room  from 


326 


LEELIXAtl. 


hers,  she  could  hear  a  low  murmur  of 
voices,  and  at  last  the  sound  of  prayer. 
She  clasped  her  hands  and  listened  in- 
tently. 

"  Oh,   what  a  blessing ! "    she   murmured, 
"  what  a  blessing  to  my   poor   father  1 " 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE    SEQUEL. 

was  indeed  so,  as  Lord  Colches- 
ter often  afterwards  averred;  but' 
I  must  briefly  explain.  The  news 
of  his  sudden  accession  to  rank  and  fortune 
occasioned  feelings  of  pride  in  the  heart 
of  the  Englishman;  pride  which  in  former 
years  had  been  his  besetting  sin,  and  against 
the  cherishing  of  which  his  devoted  Chris- 
tian wife  had  often  warned  him.  During  the 
years  of  his  dependence  his  pride  had  been 
so  effectually  subdued  that  he  thought  it 
quelled ;  but  the  moment  MelviHe's  propo- 
sals to  his  daughter  opened  a  way  for 
him  to  return  to  his  former  position  in 
society,  the  old  enemy  raUied  in  all  hia 
strength. 

(327) 


328  LEELINAU. 

During  their  journey  from  Savannah  to 
New  York,  Warner  by  his  pretentious 
display  of  his  master's  rank,  fostered  the 
pride  and  arrogance  which  were  so  pain- 
ful to  Edith.  On  reaching  their  destina- 
tion Mr.  Colchester  cautioned  his  daugh- 
ter against  any  reference  to  her  late  em- 
ployment. This  exhibition  of  pride  so 
deeply  pained  the  young  girl  that  she 
wept  bitterly. 

But  Mr.  Colchester  was  a  Christian ; 
and  therefore  he  was  not  long  left  to 
cherish  sin,  rolling  it  as  a  sweet  morsel 
under  his  tongue.  He  had  scarcely  reached 
his  hotel,  before  he  was  seized  with  an 
alarming  illness  which  for  a  time  baffled 
the  skill  of  his  physicians.  He  went 
down  to  the  gates  of  death,  where  in 
the  near  prospect  of  eternity,  he  viewed 
life  as  it  is.  The  vanity  and  folly  of 
setting  a  value  on  such  merely  adventitious 


THE  SEQUEL.  329 

circumstances  as  rank  or  wealth  appeared 
as  they  had  never  done  before.  He  mourn- 
ed his  own  wickedness.  He  prayed  for 
strength  to  be  delivered  from  his  old 
adversary.  He  confessed  his  sin,  not  only 
to  his  Maker,  but  to  his  daughter  and  to 
Warner.  He  resolved  that  if  his  life  was 
spared,  this  wealth  his  heavenly  Father 
had  bestowed  should  be  used  in  advanc- 
ing Christ's  kingdom.  At  the  time  he  was 
carried  on  board  ship  it  would  have  been 
difficult  to  find  a  meeker,  more  humble 
Christian. 

Was  it  a  wonder  then,  that  Edith  ex- 
claimed, on  hearing  Mr.  Wallingford's  voice 
in  prayer : 

"Oh,  what  a  blessing  to  my  poor 
father  1  " 

Truly  during  the  fourteen  days  of  their 
voyage,  she  found  the  truth  of  the  inspired 
declaration : 


330  LEELIXAU. 

"  A  word  spoken  in  duo  season,  how 
good  it  is  1 " 

For  hours  together,  Mr.  "Wallingford  lin- 
gered by  the  side  of  the  invalid,  reading 
to  him,  or  discussing  those  high  and  holy 
themes,  dear  to  the  heart  of  both. 

Sometimes  they  talked  of  Edith,  who,  after 
the  first  day  was  unfortunately  confined  to 
her  berth  with  sea-sickness ;  and  here  again 
they  were  united  in  sentiment.  Mr.  Col- 
chester had  listened  to  the  lover's  confes- 
sion; and  after  Edith's  blushing  avowal  of 
affection,  he  gave  them  his  approbation. 

It  was  indeed,  an  immense  relief  to  the 
feeble  man,  to  have  at  his  side,  one  with 
whom  he  could  form  plans  to  govern  him 
en  his  arrival  in  England,  and  at  length  it 
was  resolved  that  Lord  Colchester  and  his 
daughter,  should  remain  quietly  in  London, 
while  Mr.  "Wai ling-ford  ponght  Melville  and 
informed  him  of  his  cousin's  arrival. 


THE  SEQUEL.  331 

It  was  now  three  months  since  the  in- 
furiated  O'Neil  had  sought  to  end  his 
master's  life.  Beyond  the  facts  contained 
in  "The  London  Times,"  they  as  yet  knew 
nothing. 

Once  in  London,  Mr.  "Wallingford  only 
waited  to  take  lodgings  for  his  friends, 
and  to  secure  board  at  a  hotel  near  them, 
before  he  waited  upon  Mr.  Goldsborough, 
the  attorney  who  had  been  employed  to 
make  Lord  Dexter's  will. 

Here  he  ascertained  from  the  clerk,  that 
no  answers  having  been  received  from  ad- 
vertisements sent  to  Montreal,  the  city 
where  they  were  last  heard  from,  the  Park 
had  been  let  for  a  year,  as  Melville  pos- 
itively refused  to  remain  there.  lie  and 
his  mother  were  now  living  in  cheap 
lodgings  in  Kensington  Road,  the  young  man 
being  now  her  only  support. 

From    the    office    of    the    attorney,    Mr. 


332  LEELINAU. 

Wallingford  drove  at  once  to  Kensington, 
but  saw  only  Mrs.  Colchester.  He  left 
word,  however,  for  the  lawyer  to  call  at 
his  hotel  on  business  connected  with  the 
late  disastrous  events. 

As  he  expected,  this  message  brought 
the  young  lawyer  without  an  hour's  delay, 
after  his  return  from  his  office. 

He  was  a  gentleman  of  frank,  pleasing 
manners,  who  quickly  won  his  way  to  Mr. 
Wallingford's  heart,  by  the  terms  in  which 
he  spoke  of  his  cousin  Edith. 

He  appeared  embarrassed  only  when  his 
father's  name  was  mentioned,  confessed  that 
the  suspicion  of  conspiracy  between  his 
father  and  O'Neil  was  the  cause  of  his  leav- 
ing home ;  that,  though  absent,  he  had  never 
ceased  to  urge  the  restoration  of  the  estates 
to  the  rightful  heirs.  It  was  his  opinion  that 
his  father,  during  the  latter  years  of  his 
life,  deeply  regretted  the  course  he  had 


THE    SEQUEL.  333 

pursued,  which  had  brought  no  happiness, 
but  continued  misery  on  himself  and  fam- 
ily,—  that  he  would  have  been  glad  to  com- 
promise, by  having  Edith  become  his 
daughter,  and  then  leaving  his  estates  to 
her. 

The  interview  between  Melville  and  his 
relatives  was  at  first  exceedingly  painful; 
but  Edith  did  not  allow  her  cousin  to  leave 
until  she  had  convinced  him  that  the  memory 
of  his  early  kindness  had  never  been  effaced. 

Mr.  Wallingford  also  assured  him  that 
he  would  be  a  welcome  visitor  at  York- 
shire, to  which  they  were  intending  to 
proceed  directly  after  their  marriage. 

The  next  morning,  Mr.  Goldsborough 
called  upon  Lord  Colchester,  offering  his 
hearty  congratulations  upon  the  recent 
discoveries. 

"  In  a  business-point  of  view,"  he  re- 
marked, "  Giles  has  not  done  injury  to  the 


334  LEELINAF. 

estate.  For  a  year  or  two  he  was  very 
extravagant,  but  of  late,  has  been  almost 
miserly  in  his  desire  to  preserve  the  prop- 
erty intact. 

O'Neil,  too,  was  made  to  disgorge  seven 
thousand  pounds,  which  his  threats  of  pro- 
claiming the  fraud,  had  wrung  from  his 
master." 

Before  he  left,  the  attorney  placed  in 
Lord  Colchester's  hands,  the  will  by  which 
his  uncle  left  him  heir  of  ah1  that  he  pos- 
sessed. 

The  white-haired  nobleman  was  deeply 
moved,  as  after  glancing  at  its  provisions, 
he  remarked  : 

"  This  accords  exactly  with  the  statement 
my  uncle  made  in  his  dying  hour." 

In  his  after  life,  Mr.  Wallingford  was 
greatly  esteemed  for  his  urbanity  and  kind- 
ness in  his  social  intercourse ;  and  respected 
for  his  many  acts  of  public  munificence, 


THE  SEQUEL. 


335 


though  few  of  his  friends  were  ever  per- 
mitted, as  we  have  been,  to  take  a  peep 
"  Behind  the  Curtain,"  or  visit  Leelinau  in 
her  Lodge. 


1 


A     000  088  320     7 


